


Look What Love Has Done - Volume 3

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, During Canon, Established Relationship, Mpreg, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-08-08
Updated: 2009-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-03 18:22:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 45
Words: 331,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8725417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Forget volume one, forget volume two; this is volume three.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

**Title:** Look What Love Has Done - Volume 3 - Chapter 1  
**Pairing:** Sam/Dean  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine  
**Rating:** NC-17 this chapter  
**Summary:** Dean teaches Dylan a new word; a big event for Michael and Paula  
**Author's Note:** Forget volume one, forget volume two; this is volume three   
 

**fourteen months and eighteen days old**  
  
“Hey Sammy, I got a little surprise for you,” Dean said, walking into the bedroom, sitting down on the edge of the bed.  
  
Sam looked up from his book, tongue coming out to wet his dry lips. “Does it involve Dylan or is he just here for kicks?” He kept working the Chinese health balls with his right hand, watching Dean.  
  
Dean grinned. “It definitely involves Dylan. Now, listen carefully.”  
  
Sam straightened up. “He learned a new word?” He put his book down, reaching for the box for the health balls. “Dylan, tell Mommy your new word.”  
  
Dean kissed Dylan’s cheek, getting his attention on him. “Dylan, wanna say your new word for Mommy?” He put his mouth to Dylan’s ear and said something softly, so that Sam couldn’t hear.  
  
“Sammy,” Dylan said, smiling.  
  
Sam frowned and looked up at Dean. “You have got to be joking me.”  
  
Dean grinned again, shaking his head. “Nope. I mean, eventually, ‘mommy’ or ‘mama’ is gonna get kind of old. Sammy is the perfect alternative.”  
  
“No, it isn’t,” Sam said quickly. “Dean, you know how much I hate that name.”  
  
“You let me say it,” Dean pointed out.  
  
“Only because I got sick and tired of saying ‘it’s Sam’ every other goddamn sentence,” Sam snapped. “Dean, that’s not funny.”  
  
Dean’s grin disappeared and he stayed silent for a moment. “Oh, it totally is, Sam. You just need to get used to it.”  
  
“Dean, I’ve _always_ hated being called Sammy,” Sam continued. “You know that. You know I hate that nickname.”  
  
“Technically, Sam is a nickname too,” Dean muttered, but Sam just shot him a dirty look. “Well it _is_ , when you think about it. Birth certificate says Samuel.”  
  
“I don’t give a fuck what my birth certificate says, Dean,” Sam exclaimed, “I hate Sammy. I always have. Now-- now-- I don’t know what I want you to do, just make sure he doesn’t say it again.”  
  
“Sammy,” Dylan said again, right on cue.  
  
Dean’s grin returned and began to laugh to himself.  
  
“You’re a jerk,” Sam muttered, swinging his legs off the bed.  
  
“Sam,” Dean began, reaching out to him but Sam just shrugged him off, walking away. “Sam, come on, it’s just a joke. Don’t freak out about this, it’s just a name.”  
  
“It’s the name of a chubby twelve-year-old who used to get beat up by his brother for being too slow,” Sam reminded him. “‘Come on, Sammy, pick up the pace.’ Sound familiar?”  
  
“Sam, that’s not fair,” Dean said quietly, but Sam just glared at him.  
  
“Oh wait, what about ‘If you don’t start running faster Sammy, I’m gonna feed you to the werewolf’,” Sam continued on. “Does any of _that_ sound familiar?”  
  
“So I was a jerk of a sixteen-year-old,” Dean shrugged, “that’s not me, I don’t use it like that anymore. It’s a term of endearment.”  
  
Sam snorted and rolled his eyes. “Fuck that. I’m gonna have my shower.” He walked into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.  
  
Dean cringed and dropped his head, looking down at Dylan. “Can you say Mommy, Dylan? Can you say Mommy?”  
  
“Mama,” Dylan said, trying to crawl off Dean’s lap to pick at the bed sheets. “Mama.” He looked up at Dean.  
  
“Good boy,” Dean said softly, kissing the back of Dylan’s head. “That’s Mommy’s name, okay? That’s what Mommy wants to be called.”  
  
“Mama,” Dylan said again, pushing himself off Dean, crawling up to the pillow, grabbing at Sam’s book.  
  
 

*** * * ***

  
Sam smiled as Dylan wavered on his feet just a bit before taking another step, gripping even tighter onto Sam’s hands. “Be careful Dylan, be careful.” He looked up when the door opened and Dean walked in, wiping sweat off his forehead. He swallowed hard and looked back down at Dylan, helping him take another step, despite the dull ache that was starting in his back from being bent over so far.  
  
“How’s it going?” Dean called, going to the refrigerator to get a glass of water.   
  
Sam looked up at Dean, glaring.   
  
“Okay, still pissed I guess,” Dean muttered, walking into the living room. “Sam, you took your shower, I went out, aren’t you calm yet?”  
  
“No,” Sam snapped, squeezing his eyes shut. He let go of Dylan’s hands and straightened up, cracking his back. “God,” he groaned, rolling his shoulders. “Alright Dylan, you wanna take a step without Mommy?”  
  
Dylan whined and reached up to Sam, eyes filling with tears. “Mama,” he whimpered, before dropping down to the floor.  
  
Sam sighed and sat down on the floor beside him, lifting Dylan up onto his lap. “Dylan, what’s going on? Pickle, you have to learn to walk on your own.”  
  
Dylan shook his head and buried his face in Sam’s neck, bringing one of his legs up, grabbing at his toes.   
  
“Okay, okay, we don’t have to,” Sam said softly, rubbing Dylan’s back. “You must be tired, Dylan, you want your nap now?” He looked up at Dean, frowning. “Why are you still standing there?”  
  
“What, I’m not allowed to even be in the same room as you now?” Dean exclaimed.  
  
“No, you’re not,” Sam answered, pushing himself up, shifting Dylan in his arms. “I’m still pissed off at you.”  
  
“Come on, Sam,” Dean whined, following Sam down to Dylan’s nursery. “Has he said it since I left?”  
  
“No,” Sam admitted quietly, looking around for Dylan’s blankie, “he hasn’t.”  
  
“Then why are you so cranky?” Dean asked, leaning against the doorframe.  
  
Sam sighed and laid Dylan down in the crib, smiling down at him. “Dean, I don’t know, okay? Just leave me alone.” He turned around and tried to walk by Dean, but Dean just stood in the doorway. “What do you want me to say? You know I hate that name.”  
  
“I know,” Dean said quietly, looking up at Sam, “and I apologized. What do you want _me_ to say?”  
  
Sam shook his head. “I’m just tired, I guess. I’m sorry, I overreacted. I’m just-- it’s stupid, I mean, you’re the one who works and has to get up early, I can’t really complain.”  
  
“Sure you can,” Dean muttered, leaning up to wrap an arm around Sam’s neck and the other around his waist, pulling him in tightly. “It’s okay.” He kissed Sam’s neck and sighed, feeling Sam settle against him. “You wanna take a little nap then?”  
  
Sam rolled his eyes and smiled, nodding. “Yeah, that sounds okay.”  
  
Dean started walking backwards down the hall, still holding onto Sam, trying not to trip or fall into the wall or something equally as embarrassing. “Love you, Samuel.” He looked up at Sam, grinning.  
  
Sam stumbled a bit and almost fell before Dean tightened his grip on him. “Love you, Dean.”  
  
“Every wonder why I don’t have a nickname?” Dean asked, glancing back, trying to lead them into the bedroom.   
  
“No,” Sam replied. “Your name only has four letters to begin with. What would your nickname be?” He kicked the bedroom door shut. “De?”  
  
“Maybe,” Dean said, dropping down onto the bed, pulling Sam with him. “Wouldn’t that make sex much funnier? When you come, instead of screaming ‘Dean’ out like a woman, you can scream De.”  
  
“I don’t scream like a woman,” Sam muttered, crawling up the bed. “I don’t even scream. Who the hell are you having sex with?”  
  
“Who _aren’t_ I having sex with?” Dean smirked, laying down on his side beside Sam. “I tell ya, half the neighbourhood is a notch on my bedpost.”  
  
Sam rolled his eyes before rolling onto Dean, pinning him to the bed. “God I love you,” he murmured, before finally kissing Dean, slipping his tongue into the wet heat of Dean’s mouth. “Seems like it’s been forever since I kissed you.”  
  
Dean moaned and arched up against Sam’s chest, running his fingers down Sam’s back to grasp at the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it up as much as he could. He ran his fingers over Sam’s abs, feeling the muscles shift beneath the skin. “Don’t stop now then,” Dean breathed, dropping his hands from Sam to fumble at his jeans, lifting his hips to start pushing his jeans down. He groaned when his dick pressed against Sam, his jeans finally out of the way.   
  
“How are we doing this?” Sam asked, sitting up on his knees, undoing his own jeans.  
  
Dean swallowed hard and reached out, grabbing onto Sam’s ass. “Just thrust, little brother,” he commanded, voice already rough.  
  
Sam pushed his jeans off his hips then grabbed onto Dean’s boxers, pulling them down over his erection, before doing the same to his boxers. He laid back down and thrust against Dean, fingers digging into the pillow beside Dean’s head.   
  
“Shit yeah,” Dean breathed, Adam’s apple bobbing. “God,” he muttered, eyes fluttering shut as Sam thrust down again. He grabbed onto Sam’s ass, pulling him closer, working his hips against Sam’s. He cringed when his cell phone rang from the nightstand. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “Don’t you fucking dare answer that Sam.”  
  
Sam grinned and if Dean didn’t know better he’d think that Sam was possessed, with the look on his face. Sam kept thrusting as he reached over, picking up Dean’s phone. “Don’t stop,” he said, still thrusting as he answered the phone. “Hello?” he asked, shifting his weight on Dean.  
  
Dean whimpered and threw his head back, hoping to fuck that it wasn’t John on the other end of that call.  
  
“Oh, he-- hi Michael,” Sam said, having to bite his lip in between to stop his panting. His eyes opened wide. “Are you serious?”  
  
Dean lifted his head and looked at Sam, watching him.  
  
“We’ll be there,” Sam replied. “B-- bye.” He shut off the phone and dropped it onto the bed, nipping at Dean’s neck. “Better come fast,” Sam muttered, moaning as Dean’s body tightened beneath his.  
  
“W-- w-- fuck, why?” Dean whined and whimpered.  
  
“Just do it,” Sam commanded, sucking Dean’s earlobe into his mouth.  
  
Dean nodded and whimpered again, thrusting up against Sam before orgasm shot through him like a bullet, shooting between his and Sam’s stomachs.  
  
“Yes,” Sam breathed, biting on the inside of his lip, squeezing his eyes shut as he came, mixing in with Dean’s come already on their stomachs. He thrust a couple more times, just out of reflex before dropping down beside Dean, breathing heavily.  
  
“What’s going on?” Dean asked, looking over at Sam. “Christ, my voice,” he muttered.  
  
Sam groaned and sat up, tucking himself back in his boxers before swinging his legs off the bed, standing up, knees shaking. “Paula’s having the baby.”   
  
 

*** * * ***

  
“God,” Michael muttered, before covering his mouth, trying to keep his breathing calm. “God. You guys, I can’t do this.”  
  
“Michael, it’s fine,” Dean assured him, “it’s going to be fine. Just-- just breathe, okay?”  
  
Sam smiled and shook his head, trying not to laugh out loud. “Michael, she’s going to be okay. The doctor would be out here or you’d be in there if it wasn’t, okay?” He handed Dylan another marker, shifting on the floor.  
  
“Oh, shut up,” Michael snapped. “You guys didn’t have to go through this. You friggin’ got your kid mail order!”  
  
Sam looked up at Michael, glaring.  
  
“Sam, don’t say anything,” Dean said quickly, putting his hand up. “Michael, if you’re going to be an ass, we’re going to leave, okay?”  
  
“Sorry,” Michael muttered, shifting on his feet.  
  
“Here ya go, Dylan,” Sam said, trying to get Dylan’s marker back on the paper instead of the floor. “Gotta stay on the paper, okay? Can you do that?”  
  
Dylan began flapping his arms, babbling to himself, the marker periodically dotting the paper.   
  
“Okay, calm down,” Sam said comfortingly, running his fingers through Dylan’s hair. “On the paper, okay? Or not at all.” He tapped the paper with his finger. “Paper.”  
  
“Pay,” Dylan said, looking up at Sam.  
  
“Yeah,” Sam smiled, looking over at Dean. “Pay.”  
  
Dean nodded and murmured in agreement. “Yep.”  
  
“Shouldn’t I be in there with her?” Michael asked, looking around. “Why am I not in there with her?”  
  
“Because she screamed at you and said ‘you got me into this mess, don’t ever touch me again!’” Sam reminded him. “Is that it?”  
  
“Oh yeah,” Michael muttered. “Christ, I’m going to be a father soon. I’m going to have a baby. Wh-- I can’t have a baby, I’m not ready for a baby.”  
  
Dean gave Sam a knowing smile. “Trust me, Mike, everybody feels like that.”  
  
Michael smiled in relief. “Really?”  
  
Sam nodded. “Don’t worry about it.”  
  
“Okay,” Michael said, nodding. “We haven’t decided on a name yet,” he said suddenly. “Oh my god, we don’t have a name for our baby. What-- our baby’s not going to have a name!”  
  
Sam finally started to laugh, shaking his head.   
  
Dean bit the inside of his lip, trying not to grin too wide. “Michael, you don’t have to come up with one right away. I’m sure you’ll think of something.”  
  
“Really?” Michael asked, spinning on his feet. “Oh, okay.”  
  
“Okay,” Dean nodded, turning around to look down at Sam.  
  
Dylan sighed and hiccupped, before grabbing onto the chair, pulling himself up. “Pay?” he asked, reaching out to Sam.  
  
“No, paper,” Sam said, pointing at the paper. “That’s the paper, not me.”  
  
Dylan lifted his foot and stepped on the paper, giggling loudly. He reached out and stepped out to Sam before trying to step with the same leg, making him fall over.  
  
Sam grabbed onto Dylan before he hit the floor and held him up. “You’re quite the character Dylan,” Sam murmured as Dylan began laughing again, trying to jump up.  
  
“Pay!” Dylan yelled, giggling loudly.   
  
“Dylan, you have to be quiet,” Sam said softly in Dylan’s ear, rubbing his back. “Shh, shh, it’s okay. But you have to be quiet, Dylan, okay? Shh.”  
  
Dylan sighed and leaned against Sam. “Shh,” he copied, looking around the waiting room.  
  
“Wanna color again, Dyl?” Dean asked, crouching down beside Sam and Dylan. He grabbed a marker and handed it to Dylan. “Wanna color?” He lifted up Dylan’s paper and sat down, patting his lap. “Sit down, let Daddy hold ya.”  
  
Dylan watched his marker in fascination as Dean lifted him up, sitting him on his lap.  
  
Michael swallowed and leaned against the wall, watching Sam and Dean with Dylan.   
  
“On the paper,” Dean said, guiding Dylan’s hand to the paper. “Draw Mommy for me, ‘kay?” He nudged Dylan to get his attention and pointed at Sam. “Draw Mommy.”  
  
Dylan kicked his tiny feet and bobbed his head, babbling to himself.   
  
“Paula and me are gonna be able to handle this, aren’t we?” Michael asked quietly.  
  
Sam and Dean both looked at Michael. “Yeah, of course,” Sam answered. “It’s going to be fine. You’re both going to be fine.”  
  
Michael sighed in relief and closed his eyes, taking another deep breath.   
  
“Michael?”  
  
Michael jumped and looked over at the doctor, eyes opening wide. “Is it okay? Is Paula okay? Is everything--”  
  
“Everything’s fine,” the doctor assured him. “I think you-- your son is perfect. Ten fingers, ten toes.”  
  
Michael’s eyes opened even wider and he grinned, glancing over at Sam and Dean. “My-- my son. I have a son. Oh my god, I have a son.”  
  
Sam and Dean smiled at each other, Dean giving Dylan a kiss. “Well what the hell are you waiting around here for, Mike?” Dean asked. “Get your ass in there.”  
  
Michael stood still for a moment, seemingly stunned before he nodded and began walking, the doctor leading him.  
  
“A boy,” Sam said quietly, licking his thumb before he reached over and got the marker off Dylan’s face. “That’s great.”  
  
“I was kind of hoping for a girl myself,” Dean said.   
  
“Why?” Sam asked, looking up at him.  
  
Dean shrugged. “I don’t know. Paula’s hot, Michael’s hot, odds are the kid would’ve been hot too.”  
  
Sam frowned. “Um, Dean, I don’t know how to break this to you, but she would’ve been twenty-nine years younger than you.”  
  
Dean rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out at Sam. “I meant for Dylan. I mean, it’s a boy, so they’re going to be great friends, but a girl…they could’ve been more.”  
  
Sam rolled his eyes this time. “You’re an idiot, Dean,” he said as he began laughing to himself.  
  
 

*** * * ***

  
“Dude, I can see her boob,” Dean muttered under his breath, looking up at Sam.   
  
“Dean, be polite,” Sam snapped, plastering on a grin. “She’s just breastfeeding.”  
  
Dean shifted Dylan on his hip, watching Paula closely. “Funny enough, I think yours were bigger.”  
  
Sam swatted Dean on the back of the head before stepping into the room. “Hi Paula,” he said softly, trying to keep his eyes up and away from where the baby was feeding.  
  
Paula blew her hair out of her face and smiled up at Sam and Dean. “I’m glad you guys came.”  
  
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Dean told her. “After everything you’ve done for us, we wouldn’t miss it for the world.”  
  
“Did you name him yet?” Sam asked, shifting on his feet.   
  
Michael and Paula smiled at each other, Michael nodding. “Cillian Sage,” Paula answered.  
  
“That’s nice,” Sam nodded, finally looking down at the baby. “He’s gorgeous.”  
  
Michael smiled and cleared his throat, straightening up. “We’d actually like to ask something of you. Both of you.”  
  
Sam nodded while Dean tried to keep Dylan in his arms. “Yeah, sure, of course,” Sam said, reaching over to try and get Dylan to calm down.  
  
“You wanna be his godfathers?” Michael asked, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet.  
  
Sam’s eyes opened wide and Dean’s mouth opened. “Us?” Dean asked. “Are you sure? I mean, I’d love to but wouldn’t your family--”  
  
“My sister is going to be his godmother,” Paula interrupted. “and this would really mean a lot to us. So, what do you say?”  
  
Sam and Dean looked at each other, talking to one another with their eyes. “Yeah,” Dean said finally, nodding, looking back to Paula and Michael. “Of course.”  
  
Paula beamed. “Great. Thank you.”  
  
Sam nodded and shoved his hands in his jacket, smiling at Dean. “It’s our-- pleasure, I guess.”  
  
“Do you want to hold him?” Paula asked suddenly, fixing her hospital gown, covering herself back up.  
  
Sam nodded instantly and stepped towards the bed. “I mean, if you want me to.”  
  
Dean bit the inside of his lip when Dylan kicked and came about an inch away from his groin and watched Sam lean down and take Cillian from Paula.  
  
Sam could hardly help the tears that began to fill his eyes as he looked down at Cillian, smiling down at him. “He’s so gorgeous,” he said quietly, studying Cillian closely. “So tiny. So new.” He looked over at Dean, trying not to let his tears spill over. “He reminds me of Dylan.”  
  
Dean smiled and nodded, glancing down at Dylan in his own arms. He looked over at Michael and Paula. “You guys did good.”  
  
Michael and Paula both grinned at each other, Michael leaning down to give Paula a kiss.  
  

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Look What Love Has Done - Volume 3 - Chapter 2  
**Pairing:** Sam/Dean  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine  
**Rating:** R this chapter  
**Summary:** A haunted neighborhood in Santa Barbara catches Sam and Dean's attention.  
**Author's Note:** Forget volume one, forget volume two; this is volume three

 

**seventeen months and fourteen days old**  
  
Dean nodded and leaned forward in his seat, smiling sympathetically at the young woman. “I’m-- _we_ are very sorry for your loss, Miss Phillips.”  
  
Alexis sniffled and nodded, reaching up to wipe her eyes. “I never even got to say goodbye, he was just…gone.” She started to cry again and Dean reached over, patting her shoulder comfortingly.  
  
Dean cleared his throat and smiled again. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I have to go check on--”  
  
Alexis nodded, looking up at Dean as he slid out of the booth.  
  
Dean sighed and pushed open the door to the bathroom. “You done yet?”  
  
Sam looked up and over at Dean, nodding. “Yeah, just give me a sec. How’s it going out there?” He fixed Dylan’s diaper and lifted him up, pulling up Dylan’s pants. “Okay, Dylan?” he asked quietly.  
  
“Yeah,” Dylan nodded, not really understanding what Sam had asked.  
  
“She’s crying again,” Dean whined, shifting on his feet.  
  
Sam rolled his eyes. “Her _boyfriend_ just died, Dean; have some sympathy.”  
  
“I _hate_ it when they cry,” Dean muttered, spinning around when somebody walked into the bathroom. He smiled politely before turning back to Sam. He took a deep breath and blew it out at Dylan, smiling when Dylan jumped and looked over at Dean, eyes wide. “I hate it when they cry, Dylan, don’t you?”  
  
“Yeah,” Dylan agreed, trying to take a step off the counter but Sam’s hands kept him from falling.  
  
Sam rolled his eyes before lifting Dylan up in his arms. “Wanna go back to the motel room, Dylan?” He cringed when Dylan answered the question the same way he answered every other question. “Okay, remind me to stop asking questions until he learns more words.”  
  
“No problem,” Dean said, opening the door to the bathroom, stepping back out. He dropped his smile and walked back over to the booth, sliding in across from Alexis again. “Sorry about that, just had to check on them.”  
  
Alexis nodded understandingly, tears shining on her cheeks.  
  
Sam slid in beside Dean, holding Dylan to his chest, rubbing his back softly. “When was the last time you saw him?”  
  
“Monday night,” Alexis replied. “I had to go to Washington for a funeral and then when I came home…” she trailed off, looking around the diner. “We played ‘Hurt’, by Johnny Cash. He loved that song.”  
  
Dean smiled and nodded. “Johnny’s a classic.”  
  
Alexis half-smiled before she began to sob again. “I don’t know what happened. He never would’ve done what they said he did. He didn’t want to die, why would he kill himself?”  
  
Sam shook his head sadly. “I don’t know. He never said anything about it, to you? Depression?”  
  
“Of course not,” Alexis said quickly. “Never. Of course, he really only talked about one thing the week before he died.”  
  
“What was that?” Dean asked.  
  
Alexis shrugged, shaking her head. “Just how happy he was to have moved into his new place. He loved it. He loved it there. Why would he have killed himself if he just moved there? I should’ve known.”  
  
“I don’t think there’s much you could’ve done,” Sam told her. “We’re both really sorry for what happened to you, Alexis.”  
  
Alexis nodded and reached up, wiping at her cheeks. “I admit, I don’t know what really happened, but I know that he didn’t kill himself.” She smiled weakly when Dylan shifted in Sam’s arms, standing up on Sam’s lap. “Beautiful boy.”  
  
Sam and Dean smiled back, nodding. “Thank you,” Sam said quietly. He took a deep breath and glanced at Dean, nodding. “We should be getting going then.”  
  
Dean reached across the table and laid his hand on hers comfortingly. “It hurts now, Alexis, but it’ll get better.”  
  
Alexis nodded. “It can’t get any worse.”  
  
 

*** * * ***

  
Sam lifted Dylan up above him, sticking his tongue out. “Airplane, Dylan!”   
  
Dylan laughed and kicked his feet, reaching down to Sam. “Mama!”  
  
Sam brought Dylan down and laid him on his chest, kissing the top of his head.  
  
Dean stepped over Sam and walked into the bathroom, flicking on the lights. “I don’t know Sam, it doesn’t seem like a lot to go on here. Maybe it was just mice. Maybe he was just depressed.”  
  
Dylan stuck his tongue out and pushed himself up off Sam’s chest, taking a couple steps before stumbling slightly.  
  
“Dean, do we have to do this now?” Sam asked, glancing into the washroom as he pushed himself up, watching Dylan walk around in a small circle in front of him, stumbling every so often. “Come on, this is family time.”  
  
“I’m just saying,” Dean muttered, walking back out of the bathroom. He leaned down and scooped Dylan up into his arms. “What are you doing buddy, what’s going on?”  
  
Dylan squealed and clapped his hands. He pointed down at Sam on the floor. “Mama, mama,” he said breathlessly.  
  
“What’d Mama do?” Dean asked, sitting down on the bed. “What’d Mama do, Dylan?”  
  
Dylan shook his head and tried to turn in Dean’s arms, worming around. “Yup yup!”  
  
Sam started to laugh and dropped his head into his hands. “Oh my god. Dean, this is insanity. Can’t we just fast forward to the part where we can understand what he wants?”  
  
“I understand him perfectly,” Dean said, looking down at Sam.   
  
“Oh really?” Sam asked, lifting his head. “Then what does ‘mama mama yup yup’ mean? Huh?”  
  
“You just gotta ignore the ‘yup yup’, Sammy,” Dean told him. “That’s how he answers every question. Right Dylan?”  
  
“Yup yup,” Dylan answered, pushing Dean’s arm off of him, dropping back down to the ground. “Mama?” he asked, walking over to Sam.  
  
“Yeah Dylan?” Sam asked, looking up at Dean quickly. “What do you want?”  
  
Dylan reached out for Sam’s shoulders and kissed Sam’s cheek, wrapping his arms around Sam’s neck, pulling himself up. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, yawning. “Say. Say.”  
  
“Say what?” Sam asked. “Say…Mama?”  
  
Dylan sat down on Sam’s lap and started hitting his knee, wiggling around. “Ci- Cil.”  
  
“Cillian?” Sam asked.   
  
Dylan nodded. “Cil an.”  
  
Sam pressed a kiss to the top of Dylan’s head, ruffling his hair. “We can’t visit Cillian, Dylan, he’s back home. We’re not at home.”  
  
“Yeah,” Dylan breathed, nodding. “Ba?”  
  
“That we can do,” Sam nodded, reaching up onto the bed, grabbing the stuffed elephant. “What about G. Raffe? Want him too?”  
  
“Yup yup,” Dylan nodded, pulling on the elephant’s trunk.  
  
“Kay,” Sam said, shifting on the floor, shifting Dylan on his lap. “I don’t think we brought Rex, I think Rex is at home.”  
  
Dylan made Ba walk across Sam’s lap over to G. Raffe, and wiggled them both before handing Ba over to Sam. “Dada?” Dylan asked, looking up at Dean. He offered G. Raffe out to him.   
  
Dean smiled and slid onto the floor, rubbing Dylan’s hair. “You can keep him, Pickle, ‘kay?” He smiled down at Dylan before giving him a quick kiss. “What sound does a giraffe make, Dylan?”  
  
Dylan lifted the giraffe up and made him kiss Dean.   
  
“What’s it sound like though, Dylan?” Dean asked. He growled down at Dylan. “Does it sound like that?”  
  
Dylan growled back, pushing himself up on Sam’s lap. He growled at Sam, before giving him a kiss. “Mama.” He poked Sam’s cheek. “Grr.”  
  
“Grr,” Sam growled back, bringing the elephant up to Dylan, making it growl at him. “You want your bath now, Dylan?” He pointed towards the bathroom. “Wanna bath?”  
  
“Ba?” Dylan asked as Sam lifted him off his lap.   
  
Sam stood and took Dylan’s hand in his, leading him into the bathroom. “Bath, Dylan, not Ba. Bath.”  
  
“Sam, would you hate me if I went to bed?” Dean asked, pushing himself up just enough to look at Sam in the bathroom.   
  
Sam looked up from taking off Dylan’s shirt and sighed. “I guess if you’re tired, but you’re not gonna get any sleep with Dylan in the bath.”  
  
“Just need to close my eyes,” Dean explained, pushing himself up the rest of way. He walked into the bathroom and gave Sam a kiss before crouching down, kissing Dylan. “Night Dylan, wanna give Daddy a hug?” He opened his arms and smiled when Dylan stepped into them, wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck. “Oh, that’s my boy,” Dean said, squeezing Dylan gently. “Goodnight, be good for Mommy.” He stood up and gave Sam another kiss, walking back out of the bathroom.  
  
 

*** * * ***

  
“Oof,” Dean groaned when he felt a hand press to his chest. Next, another hand and then a foot. “Sam, are you letting our son crawl all over me?” he asked, not even opening his eyes.  
  
Sam shrugged from beside him. “You could say that. I prefer to think of it as playtime with the dad that went to bed early last night.”  
  
Dean sighed and finally opened his eyes, faced with Dylan’s bright green eyes looking down at him.   
  
Dylan squealed and sat back on Dean’s stomach, clapping. “Dada!”  
  
Dean yawned and stretched as much as he could without knocking Dylan over. “Dylan!” he shrieked back at Dylan, reaching up to tickle Dylan’s stomach.  
  
Dylan began laughing and started to shake in Dean’s hands. “Dada,” he cried, giggling loudly, trying to reach out to Sam, but Dean just kept tickling.  
  
Sam started to laugh and shook his head, tapping a couple keys on his laptop.  
  
Dean grabbed onto Dylan’s sides and stood up, lifting Dylan up into the air. “Was it a good bath, Dylan?” he asked, spinning around. “Good sleep?” He brought Dylan down and gave him a kiss, setting him on his hip. “Were you upset that Daddy went to bed?”  
  
Dylan looked up at Dean, panting slightly.   
  
“Nope?” Dean asked.  
  
“Ope,” Dylan grinned, sticking his tongue out Dean.  
  
“Ope,” Dean repeated, rubbing Dylan’s softly. “Otay, Buckwheat!” He laughed and leaned down, setting Dylan down. “You want me to go get us some breakfast?” He took a step towards his duffel bag, but looked down when he felt an odd weight on his leg.  
  
“Okay, that is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” Sam said, looking up from his laptop.  
  
Dylan had one foot on Dean’s, the other leg wrapped around Dean’s leg, along with his arms.   
  
Dean sighed and leaned down, peeling Dylan’s arms and leg off of him, lifting him back up into his arms. “Let Daddy get dressed and you can come with me, ‘kay?” He kissed and set Dylan down on the bed, going to his duffel.  
  
“He misses you,” Sam said quietly, closing the laptop.  
  
Dean looked over at Sam. “What do you mean?”  
  
Sam shrugged. “You work, barely see him.”  
  
“I see him,” Dean snapped, reaching down to grab a t-shirt out of his bag.  
  
“Yeah, when we get a call about a rash of deaths in a Santa Barbara neighbourhood,” Sam said, swinging his legs off the bed, standing up. He walked over to Dean and wrapped his arms around Dean’s chest, kissing his neck.   
  
“I see him,” Dean said again, looking over at Dylan sadly. “I help get him up in the morning and sometimes I’m home before you put him down at night.” He thought for a moment. “Sundays, get all day with him.”  
  
Sam nodded slowly. “You’re _usually_ home before I put him to bed,” he assured him.  
  
Dean looked back at Dylan who had his legs up in the air, picking at his tiny toes. “I don’t see him, do I? I work too much.”  
  
“You could ask to switch to part-time,” Sam suggested.  
  
“Can’t pay for a house and a kid on part-time,” Dean muttered. “I work too much. I don’t have to work as many hours as I do.” He turned around and hugged Sam, burying his face in Sam’s broad chest. “That’s what I’m gonna do. When we get back, I’m gonna tell Bob that I’m not working as many hours. Work out my schedule so I get Saturday off too or something.”  
  
“I didn’t mean to offend you,” Sam said softly. “I was just saying…”  
  
Dean shook his head. “It’s true.” He turned back around and pulled the t-shirt on, reaching down to grab his jeans. “I’m a bad--”  
  
“If you finish that sentence,” Sam interrupted Dean, “I will swat you upside the head. You think Dylan cares about how many hours you work? No, he doesn’t, he loves you, ‘cause you’re his dad. That’s all he cares about.”  
  
Dean sighed and pulled on his jean before slipping his feet into his boots. “Let’s go for breakfast, Dylan,” he said, walking by Sam to lift Dylan back up. “You could come, then I wouldn’t have to bring it back.”  
  
Sam shook his head. “Gotta shower, do more research on the neighbourhood. You can eat there, just bring me something back.”  
  
“Bacon McBagel?” Dean asked, pulling Dylan’s jacket on.   
  
“Don’t think that’s the technical term, but I know what you mean,” Sam smiled, “and yes, please.” He kissed Dylan’s cheek and kissed Dean’s lips, smiling at him. “If you wanna change your schedule, go ahead.”   
  
Dean smiled and let Dylan out of his arms, grasping onto his hand, opening the door. “We’ll be back in a bit.” He let Dylan lead him out of the room, smiling back when Sam closed the door behind him. “Which car’s ours, Pickle?” Dylan tried to pull his hand out of Dean’s, but Dean just tightened his grip. “Gotta be careful, Dylan. Too young to let you go on your own.”  
  
Dylan began walking again, jumping up into a puddle by a car, opening his mouth in shock when water sprayed up.  
  
Dean led Dylan away from the puddle and over to the Impala, opening up the backseat. He lifted Dylan into the car and reached in, helping him into his car seat. He checked the buckle before closing the door, climbing into the driver’s seat. “Remember what Mommy wants?” Dean asked, checking in the rear view mirror.  
  
Dylan grabbed his rattle out of the side of his car seat and shook it, not paying any attention to Dean.  
  
“Dylan,” Dean said.  
  
Dylan jumped and looked up. “Hi.”  
  
“Hi,” Dean smiled, pulling out of the parking lot. “Want Daddy to turn on the radio?” He reached down and turned up the volume, smiling when Def Leppard’s Hysteria started up. He glanced into the backseat and started to sing along. “Out of touch, out of reach yeah. You could try to get closer to me.” He pulled to a stop at the red light, glancing into the back again. “Can you sing Dylan? Sing along.” He turned the music up, seeing if Dylan would get the point.  
  
Dylan began shaking his rattle loudly and singing along in gibberish.  
  
Dean started singing along with him, driving again. “It’s such a magical mysteria when you get that feeling,  
when you get that feeling. Rock on, Dylan!” He began air drums, bobbing his head up and down. “Def Leppard owns my soul,” he murmured, looking around for the big yellow M they had driven by the day before. “Pizza Hut, Pizza Hut, Kentucky Fried Chicken and a Pizza Hut,” he began singing softly, pulling into the McDonald’s parking lot. “McDonald’s, McDonald’s, Kentucky Fried Chicken and a Pizza Hut.”   
  
“Pe Ha!” Dylan yelled, shaking his rattle.  
  
“That’s right Dylan, Pizza Hut,” Dean nodded. “Maybe later, Mommy wanted McDonald’s.”  
  
 

*** * * ***

  
“So what’s the sitch?” Dean asked, groaning when Dylan stepped on his stomach.  
  
Sam stared at Dean in disbelief, all too ready to make a joke about Dean’s lingo, before he reached out to grab onto Dylan. “Okay, so one street, ever since it was developed back in the fifties, ten people living there have killed themselves.”  
  
“Okay, list ‘em,” Dean said, slipping his hands underneath his head.  
  
“Okay, we’ve got Anthony Marcus in fifty-eight , who hung himself in his attic,” Sam began, reaching to grab onto Dylan again. “Dylan, sit on Mommy’s lap, don’t step on Daddy.”  
  
Dylan stumbled over to Sam and plopped down on his lap, tilting his head up to look at Sam.  
  
“Good boy,” Sam said, leaning down to give Dylan a kiss. “In sixty-three it was Patrick Allen, shot himself.” He scrolled down the page and ruffled Dylan’s blonde hair. “Wanna read the next one?” he asked, leaning down to look at Dylan. He pointed at the screen. “Can you read that, Dylan?” He shook his head, kissing him again. “No, not yet. Okay, in seventy-one it was a murder-suicide; Theresa Muldoon killed her husband Don before killing herself.”  
  
“MO doesn’t fit Sam, drop it,” Dean said, sliding one hand out from under his head to examine his nails. “Which way was the gay way to look at your nails again?”  
  
Sam sighed and reached over, swatting Dean’s hand down. “Every way to look at your nails is gay when _you_ do it, Dean; now listen.”  
  
“I’m listening!” Dean protested, even as he brought his hand back up again. “Next.”  
  
Sam found where he left off. “Summer Rain in--”  
  
“Seriously?” Dean asked, lifting his head.  
  
“Seriously,” Sam said quickly. “Summer Rain in seventy-six, overdose. Pauley Ross in eighty-one, gun. Colombia Vennis was eighty-seven, slit her wrists, Rose McGrath was in ninety-six, found hanging in her living room, Scott Latham in two thousand and one, gun, and finally--”  
  
“Teddy Hebb,” Dean finished, sitting up. “Suffocated in his garage.”  
  
Sam nodded. “They’re all different houses though, which means that the entire street must’ve been built on something, like a graveyard or something. It doesn’t make any sense; I’ve never seen an entire neighbourhood haunted before.” He took a deep breath and yawned, shaking his head. “And _no_ , Dean, we can’t burn the whole street down.”  
  
“Damn it,” Dean muttered under his breath. “Okay, so…what do we do? More research? I hate research, Sammy, it drives me ins--”  
  
“I’ll do the research,” Sam assured him. “I’ll do the research and you can have a day with Dylan, how’s that sound?” He frowned as he studied Dylan’s hands, seeing remnants of his breakfast there.  
  
“Sam, I don’t want you to throw me a goddamn pity party all of a sudden,” Dean said.  
  
“I’m not,” Sam replied, lifting Dylan up as he stood up. “You really think I want a one-year-old running around the library with me? It’ll be easier this way. What do you say, Dylan? You wanna spend today with Daddy? How’s that sound?”  
  
Dean pushed himself up, following Sam into the bathroom. “Sam, you don’t have t-- I know what you’re doing.”  
  
“What’s that?” Sam asked, holding Dylan up to the sink, turning on the water. “Getting you and him out of what is sure to be a day boring as hell? You’re right Dean, I’m such a bad person.” He looked over at Dean, smiling. “Dean, I love the library. I admit it. I love the research. You love getting out of the research. Dylan, well, Dylan doesn’t know what he loves yet but I bet he loves spending time with you.” He turned off the tap. “Towel, please.”  
  
Dean grabbed a towel and leaned down slightly, drying Dylan’s hands off quickly before kissing each of them. “There, all clean.”  
  
Dylan leaned out, giving Dean a peck on the cheek, smiling up at him.  
  
“Wanna spend your day with Dada?” Dean asked, grinning at Dylan. He took Dylan from Sam, making a face at him. “You don’t wanna go to the library with Mama, do you? Library, that’s for mommies.”  
  
“Yeah well, you could’ve just as easily’ve been the mommy here Dean, so let’s not teach our son that,” Sam said, walking out of the bathroom, going over to duffel bag. “You can just drop me off at the library,” he said, pulling a blue sweater over his head, sending his hair in ten different directions, “and then I don’t know, you can show up or I can call you and we can go out for supper or something.” He pulled off his sweatpants and grabbed a pair of jeans, hopping up and down as he pulled them on.   
  
Dean made another face at Dylan, showing no sign that he’d actually heard what Sam had said to him.  
  
 

*** * * ***

  
Sam sighed and rubbed at his eyes, the words blurring together in front of him. “God,” he muttered, leaning back in his chair, stretching his arms. He shook his head out of his eyes and blinked a couple times, going back to the newspaper. He read to himself quietly, reaching up to push his hair out of his eyes. “The street, developed in the fifties…” he read, scanning the pages for something he didn’t already know. “What used to be there?” he asked, flipping the page.  
  
“Shh,” the librarian said, peering out from around one of the shelves.  
  
Sam smiled apologetically and sunk down in his chair, flipping the page again. “Asylum, graveyard, Indian burial ground…” he flipped another page and bit his lip, “anything?” He began sinking down further in his chair, before finally, dropping his head to the table. “God,” he muttered.  
  
 

*** * * ***

  
Dylan grinned and yanked on Dean’s hand, trying to lead him over to the dog.  
  
“Dylan, no, Dylan,” Dean said, keeping his grip on Dylan’s hand, crouching down. “That doggie’s too big for you, stay with Daddy.”  
  
Dylan looked at Dean, still smiling. “Dada?”  
  
Dean shook his head. “Stay with me; that doggie could hurt you.” He stood up and lifted Dylan up into his arms, smiling as Dylan’s eyes went wide when the dog barked loudly. “Daddy’ll protect you, don’t worry.”  
  
“He doesn’t bite,” the man said, looking up from his dog, “but I’d keep your son away anyway.”  
  
Dean smiled and nodded. “Yeah, he’s never seen a dog before.” He kissed Dylan’s cheek, trying to keep Dylan from squirming in his arms. “Calm down, Dylan, last thing we need is to take you home to Mommy with a dog bite.”  
  
“Dada,” Dylan whined, squirming even more, trying to drop back onto the ground.  
  
“Dylan, no,” Dean said, shaking his head. “You’re too tiny to play with that doggie, maybe when you’re older, ‘kay? Now calm down, shh.” He rubbed Dylan’s back and smiled politely at the man before turning away, continuing on down the boardwalk. “He’s got a smile that it seems to me, reminds me of childhood memories, where everything was as fresh as the bright blue sky,” he sang softly, eyes squinting in the sunlight. “Sweet child of mine.” He looked around one more time before sitting down on a bench, shifting Dylan on his lap. “I love you, Dylan,” he told him softly, kissing the top of his head. Dean sighed and leaned back against the bench. “Wonder what Mommy’s doing right now.”  
  
“Mama,” Dylan echoed, leaning forward in Dean’s arms, tiny hands holding onto Dean’s arms.  
  
Dean smiled. “Yeah, Mama.” He kissed Dylan again.  
  
 

*** * * ***

  
Sam’s eyes widened and he let out a sigh of relief, finally finding something that might be able to help. “Neighbourhood fire in fifty-one,” he read from the paper. He scratched at his cheek and read the rest of the article, nodding to himself. Looking around the library for the librarian, he dug out his cell phone and quickly dialled Dean’s number.  
  
Dean looked down at his pocket before looking up at Dylan, reaching out to him. “Dylan, come back here.”  
  
Dylan shook his head and took a step closer to the water, leaving tiny footprints in the sand.  
  
“Dylan, no,” Dean said loudly, ignoring his phone for the moment.  
  
Dylan took another step, laughing.  
  
Dean groaned and pushed himself up, reaching out to Dylan.  
  
“No!” Dylan yelled, stepping into the water.  
  
“Oh, that’s a great time to learn that word,” Dean murmured, reaching out to grab onto Dylan’s arm before he got further into the water.  
  
Dylan slipped and fell, landing in the water. Even though it was only a couple inches deep, he looked up at Dean before he started to cry.  
  
Dean crouched down and sighed, lifting Dylan out of the water, shhing him. “Daddy’s sorry, Dylan, Daddy’s sorry. I didn’t want you to fall, but you were supposed to stay _away_ from the water.” He took a couple steps back from the water and sat back down, holding Dylan close to him, rubbing his back. “Gon’ be a good boy now?” He gave Dylan a kiss, shhing him as he dug his cell phone out of his pocket. He dialled Sam’s number, guessing it was him without even checking who the missed call was from. “You rang?”  
  
“What happened?” Sam asked, sitting up in his chair. “Why is Dylan crying?”  
  
Dean took a moment to decide whether he was actually going to tell Sam or not. “He fell into the water,” he finally admitted, looking down at Dylan, who had his thumb shoved in his mouth, tears still welling up in his eyes.  
  
“Dean!” Sam exclaimed, leaning back in his chair.  
  
“Shh!” the librarian said again, peering out from another shelve.  
  
“It was like, two inches deep,” Dean assured him, “and I told him to get away from it and he walked right in. I grabbed him, he fell. And now he’s being a big baby about it.”  
  
“Is he okay?” Sam asked, practically ignoring Dean’s explanation about the whole thing.  
  
“He’s fine,” Dean said, rolling his eyes. “Why’d you call?”  
  
Sam thought for a moment, his mind completely blank except for the fact that Dylan was crying. “They developed the neighbourhood twice,” he said finally, the first thing that came to his mind.  
  
“What?” Dean asked, head jerking up.  
  
Sam shook his head and cleared his throat. “I found a newspaper article, from fifty-one; the neighbourhood, it was developed twice. They built it and there was a fire, a lot of people died. They rebuilt it, and _that_ is when the deaths started.”  
  
“Want me to come pick you up?” Dean asked, lifting Dylan off his lap. He stood up then grasped onto Dylan’s tiny hand, leading him slowly back up to the boardwalk.  
  
“Sure,” Sam nodded. “Just hurry up, I think the librarian is--”  
  
“Shh!” the librarian said, appearing right beside Sam.  
  
“Ah!” Sam yelled in surprise, chair tipping backwards. “Dean, just hurry up,” he said, turning off his phone. “Uh…is there a photocopier around here?” he whispered.  
  
 

*** * * ***

  
“What are we going to do?” Dean asked softly, rubbing Sam’s lower back.  
  
Sam groaned and one of his hands came up to swat at Dean. “Two am, Dean,” he murmured, rolling away from him. “What are we gonna do about what?”  
  
“An entire haunted neighbourhood,” Dean reminded him. “Duh.”  
  
“Tomorrow,” Sam mumbled, grabbing his pillow to pull over his head.   
  
Dean smiled and pushed himself up just a bit to move over Sam, dropping down onto Sam’s back, fingers dancing up and down Sam’s sides. “Love you,” he said quietly, kissing Sam’s shoulder blade, tongue coming out to lick up the salty sweat off Sam’s skin.  
  
“Dean, it’s too hot for this,” Sam grumbled, pulling his head out from under the pillow.  
  
“Feels good though, right?” Dean asked, shifting on Sam.  
  
Sam shrugged and as deep of a breath as he could take with Dean pressing into him. “Feels okay.” He shifted under Dean, trying to throw him off of him. “Dean, Dylan could wake up at any minute.”  
  
“Doesn’t know what he’s seeing,” Dean murmured against Sam’s back, moving his hand down to pull on Sam’s boxers. “Sam?” he asked quietly.  
  
Sam shook his head. “I’m not in the mood, Dean. It’s hot and I’m tired.”  
  
Dean rolled his eyes and pulled Sam’s boxers back up, rolling off of him. “Sorry,” he muttered, staring up at the ceiling.   
  
Sam sighed and pushed himself up, looking down at Dean. “I love you,” he said softly, reaching down to smear his thumb across Dean’s bottom lip.  
  
Dean grinned and pulled on Sam’s hair, pulling him down into a kiss. “Let’s just get some sleep.”  
  
Sam nodded and tucked his head under Dean’s chin, closing his eyes. He took a deep breath before jerking against Dean, pushing himself up. “All the bodies are already burned.”  
  
Dean’s eyes opened and he reached up, tucking Sam’s hair behind his ears. “Sam, let’s talk about this tomorrow, remember?”   
  
Sam shook his head and shifted, sitting up. “Dean, we have to figure this out. We have to get this done tomorrow and get back for you to go to work on Monday.” He rubbed his face. “How are we going to do this?” He took a deep breath and shook his head again.  
  
Dean sat up, rubbing Sam’s arms comfortingly. “Sam, are you okay?”  
  
Sam shook his head. “No, I’m not. An entire neighbourhood is haunted, Dean, don’t you get that?”  
  
“Yeah, I do,” Dean said, nodding. “Ten people have died, I get it.”  
  
“Not died!” Sam exclaimed. “Murdered or driven insane by spirits. And the spirits-- we know we can’t salt and burn their bones, they died in a fucking fire, slim odds of anything left. And how are we supposed to find out _all_ of their names?” His eyes widened and his breath started coming quickly.  
  
“Sam, you need to calm down, panicky is not a good look on you,” Dean said, wrapping an arm around Sam’s shoulders, pulling him in. “Now shh, calm down, you might wake up Dylan.”  
  
Sam nodded and looked over at Dylan, who was asleep in the other bed, stuffed animal under his arm. “Why _those_ people? Why the gaps between the deaths? There has to be something else. They’re random.”  
  
“You’re thinking about it too much,” Dean said quietly, kissing under Sam’s ear.  
  
Sam shook his head. “I’m not thinking about it enough.” He moved away from Dean and shoved himself off the bed, going to the pages he photocopied from the newspaper. “Those names, the names sound so familiar.”   
  
Dean frowned. “Sam? Were you watching Rain Man again?”  
  
Sam sat back down on the bed and crawled up to Dean, curling against him, the pages in his hand. He reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the small piece of paper with the victims’ names written on it. He read the list quickly and started reading through all of the newspaper articles. “Marcus,” he murmured, eyes darting back and forth between the list and one of the articles. “Allen. Rain. Ross.”  
  
“What?” Dean asked, looking over Sam’s shoulder at the list and the articles, trying to see what Sam was seeing. “Okay, you gonna share?”  
  
“Ross. Vennis,” Sam continued on, ignoring Dean.  
  
Dean shook his head. “Sam, I know you have the ability to read in your head, stop it.”  
  
“The last names of the victims,” Sam said, glancing back at him, “they’re all in these newspaper articles.”  
  
“After they died,” Dean nodded.  
  
Sam shook his head. “Before. But it’s only their last names. Different firsts. Relatives.”  
  
“So what’d their relatives do?” Dean asked.  
  
Sam swallowed hard and looked back at him. “They burned down the neighbourhood.”  
  
Dean’s eyes widened. “Oh. Well then. All of the victims are related to someone who burned the neighbourhood down. That could explain the pissed off spirits.” He took a deep breath and thought for a moment. “Okay, so what do we do?”  
  
Sam shrugged. “I don’t know. Eight people were charged in connection to the fire. You told me to discount the Muldoons, so there’s been eight victims. That’s everybody, so maybe…maybe justice has been served.”  
  
Dean groaned and dropped back onto the bed, shaking his head. “We spent-- I took Friday and today off, so we could hunt down spirits that are done? Well, that just fucking rules.”  
  
“We didn’t know, Dean,” Sam said softly, looking down at the papers in his hands. “We tried, we came, that’s what counts.”  
  
Dean shook his head and rolled over onto his side. “I’m going to sleep. We’re leaving tomorrow.”  
  
 

*** * * ***

  
Dean slammed the car door shut and picked his duffel up off the ground, following Sam and Dylan up to the house.  
  
“You’re still mad,” Sam said quietly, unlocking the door.  
  
“Cranky,” Dean muttered, walking into the house. “Not mad.” He dropped his duffel onto the kitchen floor and toed off his sneakers, sending them skittering across the floor. “It was a waste of time,” he snapped, walking into the living room.  
  
“Dean, we didn’t know!” Sam protested, trying to keep Dylan still long enough to get his sneakers off.  
  
“Coulda done all the research here,” Dean pointed out, dropping down onto the couch. He grabbed the remote and turned on the television, going through the channels. “Coulda figured out that justice was already served from here!”  
  
Sam finally got Dylan’s sneakers off and he stood up as Dylan ran into the living room after Dean, stopping at the couch.  
  
Dean finally smiled and reached down, helping Dylan crawl up onto his lap, snuggling into him. “What do you wanna watch?”  
  
“He’s tired,” Sam said, leaning against the wall, yawning himself.  
  
“Doesn’t seem tired to me,” Dean muttered, stopping on a news station.  
  
Sam walked into the living room, listening to the news reporter.   
  
“Less than two weeks ago, a young man killed himself in his garage,” the reporter said, “but today, this Santa Barbara neighbourhood is once again struck by tragedy.”  
  
Dean sat up, careful not to knock Dylan off his lap. “No way.”  
  
Sam swallowed hard and walked over to the couch, sitting down on the edge. “There were eight victims. Eight killers, eight victims.”  
  
“Theodore Hebb’s girlfriend, Alexis Phillips was apparently in the neighbourhood to finish picking up Theodore’s items,” the reporter continued on.  
  
Sam looked over at Dean, who was already looking back. “What did we do?” he asked quietly, shaking his head in disbelief. “Alexis wasn’t related to any of the killers.”  
  
“Unless we missed one,” Dean murmured. “Maybe the cops only arrested eight out of nine killers.”  
  
“After leaving the Hebb house, she apparently crashed her car into another house on the street. A spokesperson for the Phillips family has said that Alexis was in fact pregnant, with Theodore’s child.”  
  
Dean turned the television off, swallowing hard. “But…why?”  
  
Sam took a deep, shaky breath, dropping his head forward. “The child. Her baby was related to one of the killers. The baby was a Hebb, like Teddy. The spirits weren’t going to let it go.”  
  
Dean shook his head, looking down at Dylan. “We messed up.”  
  
Sam nodded and pushed himself up, going back into the kitchen, sitting down at the table with his head in his hands.  
  

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** Look What Love Has Done - Volume 3 - Chapter 3  
**Pairing:** Sam/Dean  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine  
**Rating:** R this chapter  
**Summary:** It's Christmastime, and Dean and Sam take Dylan to visit John and Bobby.  
**Author's Note:** Forget volume one, forget volume two; this is volume three

 

**twenty months and eleven days old**  
  
Sam crouched down in front of Dylan, grasping onto Dylan’s hands, holding them still. “Dylan, do you remember what Mommy told you?”  
  
“No!” Dylan yelled, yanking his hands out of Sam’s. He screamed at the top of his lungs, stomping his foot. “Mama, no!”  
  
Sam sighed, looking up at Dean. “It’s _Mommy_ , Dylan, and you have to listen to me.”  
  
Dylan shook his head. “Nope.” He reached up to Dean, ignoring Sam. “Daddy.”  
  
Dean set down his duffel bag and reached out to Dylan, but Sam just glared at him, standing up.  
  
“Don’t you dare,” Sam snapped, grabbing his bag. “Why won’t he listen to me?”  
  
Dean shrugged and picked Dylan up, grabbing his duffel. “Because you’re mean.”  
  
“I’m not mean!” Sam exclaimed. “I give him _rules_. He hit me, Dean!”  
  
Dean shrugged again and walked up to the front door, knocking with his foot. “So he’s hitting the terrible twos. Give him a break.”  
  
“Fine,” Sam muttered, looking up when the door opened.  
  
“I don’t remember inviting you,” Bobby said gruffly, tipping his hat.  
  
Dean grinned and pushed by Bobby, dropping his bag on the floor. “Nope, Dad did. Come on, Bobby, you’re letting Dad stay here, but not us? Dylan calls you ‘uncle’, you know.”  
  
Bobby rolled his eyes and stepped out of the way, giving Sam a quick smile. “Sam, how you doing?”  
  
“Whatever,” Sam said, picking up Dean’s bag. “I’ll be upstairs,” he said quietly, walking the bags up the stairs, wood creaking beneath him.  
  
“What’s the matter with him?” Bobby asked, closing the door behind him.  
  
“Good cop, bad cop,” Dean replied, leaning down to let Dylan off his hip.  
  
“Sam’s the bad cop?” Bobby asked, smiling as he sat down in his chair.  
  
“Seems to think so,” Dean nodded, unzipping Dylan’s jacket. “Where’s Dad?”  
  
“Sleeping,” Bobby answered, looking back towards the stairs.  
  
Sam dropped the duffel bags, groaning in relief. He opened the first door and looked inside, realizing it was Bobby’s bedroom. He closed that door and opened the next, pushing their bags in with his foot. He closed the door behind him, probably a lot louder than he should have and toed off his sneakers, shrugged off his jacket and crawled onto the bed, burying his face in the pillow. He took a deep breath and squirmed on the sheets, yawning. There was a knock at the door and he groaned. “What?” he snapped, lifting his head. He heard the door open then heard a throaty laugh. “Dad?” he asked, rolling onto his back.  
  
John scratched at his beard and walked in, closing the door behind him. “How you doing, Sammy?”  
  
Sam grinned and pushed himself up, going over to John, pulling him into a hug. “Sorry to wake you.”  
  
John shook his head. “It’s fine, Sammy.” He patted his back. “How you doing?”  
  
Sam shrugged, not ready to pull apart yet. “I’m okay, just tired. I’m good.”  
  
“Good,” John nodded, squeezing Sam one more time before pulling back. “Dean and Dylan here?”  
  
Sam nodded. “Downstairs,” he said flatly, looking back towards the door.  
  
John smiled. “You sound _so_ enthusiastic about it.”  
  
Sam sighed, shaking his head. “I’m just tired. Long drive and Dean and Dylan did _nothing_ to help it.” He rubbed his eyes and dropped his head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.”  
  
“Dylan’s almost two years old, it’s a given that he’s going to be annoying,” John assured him, “and Dean’s well, Dean, so that’s a given too.”  
  
Sam laughed softly, shaking his head. “I think Dylan hates me.”  
  
“Why do you think that?” John asked, moving by Sam to sit down on the mattress.  
  
Sam followed John and sat down beside him, shaking his head. “Because he doesn’t listen to me. Ever. I swear, his favourite sentence is ‘no, Mama’. He listens to Dean. Does whatever Dean tells him.”  
  
“What does Dean ever tell him to do?” John asked, looking at Sam.  
  
“Nothing,” Sam said softly. “I have to do it, I have to tell him no. I give him rules and Dean just lets him do whatever he wants.”  
  
“Sam, he’s what, twenty months? He can’t do whatever he wants,” John pointed out.  
  
“Seems like he can,” Sam muttered. “It isn’t supposed to be this hard.”  
  
John laughed. “Yes, it is. It’s parenthood. It may seem like he doesn’t like you, but in the end, he’ll thank you for it.”  
  
“That sounds like a load of shit to me,” Sam said, dropping to his side, curling up on the bed. “I never thanked you for it.”  
  
John sighed and patted Sam’s leg reassuringly, before standing up. “I’m gonna head downstairs, is there anytime you want me to come back and get you up?”  
  
“When Dylan’s learned to respect me,” Sam said, reburying his face in his pillow. “Or…whenever. I don’t care.” He yawned and squirmed, pulling at the sheets.  
  
John walked over to the door, opening and closing it as quietly as he could, before going down the stairs.  
  
“Dad!” Dean grinned, standing up.  
  
Dylan looked up as Dean walked over to John, pulling him into a hug. He shrieked loudly, swiping one of his toys away from him. “Daddy!” he yelled, hitting the floor.  
  
Bobby reached down and ruffled Dylan’s hair. “Just calm down now, DJ.”  
  
“How you doing?” Dean asked, pulling back. “Did we wake you up?”  
  
John shrugged, smiling back. “Sam did, a little. Whatever. How are you doing, Dean? How’s Dylan?”  
  
“Great,” Dean nodded, stepping back to turn to Dylan. “Dylan, come here.”  
  
Dylan stopped shrieking, dropped his block and pushed himself up, walking over to John and Dean, stumbling only once.  
  
Dean crouched down and picked Dylan up, sitting him on his hip. “Do you know who this is?”  
  
Dylan reached out to John, trying to push himself off from Dean. “Daddy.”  
  
“Nope,” Dean grinned, shaking his head. “That’s my daddy, not yours.”  
  
“Nope,” Dylan agreed, looking back at Dean, pulling on his necklace. “Who that?” he asked, pointing at John.  
  
“That’s Grampie,” Dean said slowly, “that’s Grampie.”  
  
“Yeah,” Dylan nodded, reaching out to John again.  
  
John took Dylan from Dean, giving him a quick kiss. “How you doing, buddy?” He kissed the top of Dylan’s head, taking a deep breath. “Treating everybody okay?”  
  
Dean raised an eyebrow and looked at John in disbelief. “What’d Sam tell you?”  
  
“Nothing,” John lied, shaking his head. He sat down and shifted Dylan in his arms, studying him closely. “Every time I see you, you get bigger. You gonna be as big as Sammy?”  
  
“Want a coffee, John?” Bobby asked, pushing himself up.  
  
“Sure,” John nodded.  
  
“Dean?” Bobby asked, going into the kitchen.  
  
“Yeah, thanks,” Dean answered. He sighed and flopped down on the couch beside John, scratching at his neck. “So what’d Sam say?”  
  
“Dean, I told you he didn’t say anything,” John said, rubbing Dylan’s back gently.  
  
“Lemme guess,” Dean began, ignoring John’s comment, “he told you I let Dylan run wild and Dylan hates him for having rules?”  
  
Dylan sat down on John’s lap, hitting his knee before clapping a couple times. “Daddy Mama!” he said, looking up at Dean, tiny fingers grasping onto John’s jeans.  
  
“Mama what?” Dean asked, running his fingers through Dylan’s hair. “It’s Mommy, Dylan, you know that.”  
  
Dylan pulled on John’s jeans and looked back up at Dean. “No.”  
  
Dean tried not to smile, swallowing hard, clearing his throat. “I never told him to call Sam ‘mama’. He’s not saying ‘mommy’ all on his own.”  
  
“How do you think that makes Sam feel?” John asked, letting Dylan push himself up on his lap. “I mean, come on, you’re up at daddy, and he’s still mama? What the hell is that?”  
  
“It’s not my fault!” Dean exclaimed. “Dad, Sam-- Sammy’s just overreacting, okay? Why are you always on his side, anyway?”  
  
“I’m not always on Sam’s side,” John protested, “but on this one, yeah, I think I might have to take Sam’s side on this one. You know what he told me?”  
  
Dean rolled his eyes and pushed himself up, going into the kitchen with Bobby.  
  
“Christ Almighty,” John muttered, dropping his head back against the couch.  
  
Dylan rolled off of John’s lap and stood up, leaning against the back of the couch. “Hi,” he said quietly, before grinning brightly.  
  
“Hi,” John grinned back, giving Dylan a kiss. He stood up and lifted Dylan up, up above his head. “Such a big boy.” He brought Dylan back down, holding him in his arms.  
  
Dylan laughed tucked his head under John’s chin. “Daddy.”  
  
“What about your daddy?” John asked, lifting Dylan up a bit, shifting him in his arms. “Want me to go get him? What about your mommy?”  
  
“Yeah,” Dylan nodded, grasping onto John’s shirt. “Mama.”  
  
“Dean, I’m taking Dylan upstairs,” John said, glancing into the kitchen, “be right back down.”  
  
Dean nodded and glanced back, taking a sip of his coffee. “Let him walk.”  
  
John set Dylan down at the foot of the stairs and let Dylan grasp onto his hand, leading him up the stairs. “Can you take a step for Grampie?”  
  
Dylan slowly stepped up onto the first step, tightening his fingers in John’s hand. He lifted his foot up to the second step before sighing and looking up at John. “Daddy,” he whined, stomping his foot.  
  
John crouched down and brushed Dylan’s hair off his face, giving him a kiss. “Daddy said walk.” He took the next step and looked down at Dylan expectantly. “Your turn.”  
  
Dylan stood where he was, on the second step, looking around helplessly. He didn’t want to go up the stairs and he couldn’t walk back down, so he was effectively stuck where he was. “Mama!” he screamed.  
  
“Dean, what’s going on?” John asked when Dean walked back into the living room. “He okay?”  
  
“Since we don’t have stairs at home,” Dean said, setting his mug down on the coffee table, “the only practice he gets is at Paula’s. He’s fine though.” He walked over to Dylan and crouched down, ruffling Dylan’s hair, giving him a kiss. “Up the stairs.” He set his hands on Dylan’s waist and shifted, waiting for Dylan to take a step. “Step, Dylan.”  
  
Dylan finally took another step, almost falling, but Dean’s hands on his waist and John’s hand on his kept him upright.  
  
Dean smiled and waited for Dylan to take the next step. “Think of how happy Mommy’s gonna be when you walk up the stairs.”  
  
“Mama?” Dylan asked, reaching out as he stumbled again. He pointed up the stairs, glancing back at Dean.  
  
“Yup,” Dean nodded, “up the stairs. Gonna go see Mommy?”  
  
John smiled, looking at Dean. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you this before, Dean, but…you’re a good father.”  
  
Dean beamed. “Thanks, Dad.” It was a long process, a lot longer than it should’ve been with Dylan stopping every couple of steps, but eventually, all three of them made it up the stairs. “Which room is his?” Dean asked.  
  
John nodded towards Sam’s room and helped Dean lead Dylan over to the door.  
  
“Can we…” Dean trailed off, looking up at John.  
  
“Sure,” John nodded, crouching down to kiss Dylan before heading back down the stairs. “No fighting!” he called behind him.  
  
Dean knocked once on the door before pushing it open, leading Dylan in.  
  
“Mama!” Dylan squealed, running over to the bed.  
  
Dean closed the door behind him, staying by the doorframe.  
  
Sam groaned and his eyes flickered open, looking around the room before seeing Dylan in front of him. He grinned and lifted Dylan up onto the bed, laying him down on his chest. “Hi, Dylan, what are you doing up here? How’d you get up here? Walk up the stairs all by yourself?”  
  
“Almost,” Dean said, smiling at Sam. “Little help from Daddy and Grampie. Sorry if we woke you up.”  
  
Sam shrugged. “It’s only been like, twenty minutes, I was hardly asleep. This is a nice little surprise though.” He groaned when Dylan pressed an elbow into his chest, laughing softly when Dylan finally settled down. “Tired, Dylan? Long drive, all those stairs…wanna sleep with Mommy?” He kissed the top of Dylan’s head, brushing his hair out of his eyes.  
  
Dean pushed himself off the doorframe and walked over to the other side of the bed, climbing on beside Sam, snuggling into the pillows. “Dad’s on your side,” he said softly.  
  
Sam rolled his eyes and laid one hand on Dylan’s bottom, the other on his back, keeping him in place. “There isn’t any sides in this, Dean.”  
  
“Okay,” Dean agreed, moving closer to Sam, throwing one arm over Sam’s chest, holding both Dylan and Sam in place. “Let’s just get some sleep, ‘kay?”  
  
Sam nodded and shifted under Dean’s arm, getting as close as he could, head rolling to the side to rest against Dean’s. He yawned loudly and smiled when Dylan let out a similar sound, shifting on Sam’s chest. “But if there was a side, mine would be the right one.”  
  
Dean smiled against Sam’s cheek, before giving him a quick peck. “I know.”  
  
 

*** * * ***

  
Dean yawned and shifted on the mattress, eyes opening when the mattress creaked loudly beneath him. He grinned, clearing his throat. “Hi.”  
  
“Hi,” Dylan echoed, before shoving his thumb back in his mouth.  
  
Dean sighed and pushed himself up, lifting Sam’s hands off of Dylan, lifting Dylan up in his arms. “How long have I been asleep? What time is it Dylan?”  
  
Sam mumbled in his sleep, hands moving over his chest now that Dylan was gone.   
  
Dean lifted up Sam’s wrist and looked at Sam’s watch, seeing that almost six hours had passed since they had arrived at Bobby’s. He moved towards the edge of the bed and swung his legs off, standing up. “Shouldn’t’ve let you sleep that long,” he muttered, opening the bedroom door, only to run into John. “Dad!” he said in surprise, looking up at him. “What’s going on?”  
  
“I was just coming up to see if you three had woken up yet,” John explained, stepping out of the way for Dean to walk out of the room. “Sam still sleeping?” he asked, glancing into the bedroom before closing the door.  
  
Dean nodded, yawning loudly as he began down the stairs. “I’ve gotta change Dylan, get him in his pyjamas…he’s never gonna get to sleep tonight.” He groaned before yawning again, nodding at Bobby. “Hey, Bobby.”  
  
“Why don’t you let me and John take care of DJ?” Bobby asked, taking another sip of his beer before setting it down on the coffee table.   
  
Dean shook his head, walking over to the couch, dropping down on it. “My job, I’ll do it,” he murmured, leaning his head back, eyes closed.  
  
John snorted and shook his head, lifting Dylan out of Dean’s arms. “Dean, go back to bed.”  
  
Dean shook his head, even as he yawned once more. “I’m not tired.”  
  
“Bullshit,” Bobby said loudly, causing Dean to flinch slightly. “Dean, get up to bed. Me and John ain’t gonna hurt him.”  
  
Dean opened his eyes and swallowed hard, staring up at the ceiling. He finally pushed himself up and gave Dylan a kiss as he walked by his father, pulling himself back up the stairs with the banister. “Night everybody,” he said quietly, pushing the bedroom door back open.   
  
“De?” Sam mumbled, hand dropping off his stomach to hang off the bed.   
  
“Yeah,” Dean breathed, climbing back into the bed, curling up to Sam.   
  
“Dyl?” Sam asked, shifting to his side, one hand curled up awkwardly between him and Dean.   
  
“Bobby and Dad got him,” Dean explained, rubbing his stomach after it growled. “M’ hungry.”  
  
Sam sighed and snuggled in closer to Dean, pressing his lips to Dean’s forehead. “Later.”  
  
Dean nodded, awkwardly pushing himself up so that he could scratch at his back. He fell back down on Sam, his head resting on Sam’s arm, hand resting on Sam’s hip. “Tired.”  
  
Sam nodded. “Sleep.” He pressed a kiss to Dean’s neck. “Dylan sleeping?”  
  
“With Dad,” Dean answered, even though he didn’t know that for a fact.  
  
“Kay,” Sam breathed, groaning as Dean pushed him further into the mattress, almost climbing onto him. “What the hell are you doing?” he asked loudly, lifting his head.  
  
“Trying to get comfortable,” Dean explained, lifting his head off Sam’s arm. “Why? What are you doing?”  
  
“Wondering why you’re crawling all over me,” Sam said, raising an eyebrow. He shoved Dean off of him and sat up, shaking his head, hair flying into his eyes. “Maybe we should actually get _under_ the covers.” He pushed himself off the bed and stood up, reaching down to pull off his socks. “We’re not going to get back to sleep, are we?”  
  
Dean shrugged, unbuttoning his shirt. “Probably. Maybe. I don’t know.” He shrugged off his shirt and pulled his t-shirt over his head, dropping them both onto the floor.   
  
Sam shoved down his jeans and shrugged off his shirt, climbing back into bed with his t-shirt and boxers on. “Don’t drape yourself on me this time,” he muttered, fluffing his pillow before laying his head down, taking a deep breath.  
  
Dean stepped out of his jeans and climbed in beside Sam, curling up behind him. One hand started off resting on Sam’s hip, before drifting down onto his stomach, moving up to rub at Sam’s chest through his t-shirt. “You’re so big,” he said in awe, wishing Sam had taken his t-shirt off.  
  
Sam rolled his eyes and took a deep breath, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he pushed back against Dean, taking comfort in the body behind his. “Maybe you’re just small,” he pointed out, lifting his head to glance back at Dean.  
  
Dean shook his head and his hand finally stilled under Sam’s t-shirt, resting on his abs. “Only compared to you.”  
  
Sam smiled and reached down, resting his hand on Dean’s.  
  
 

*** * * ***

  
“Hat?” Dean asked, tying his boots.  
  
Sam nodded, zipping up Dylan’s jacket.  
  
“Mittens?” Dean asked, standing up, grabbing his own jacket.  
  
“Yeah,” Sam nodded, giving Dylan a quick kiss before standing up, lifting Dylan into his arms. “Ready to go outside Dylan?”  
  
“Yeah!” Dylan said enthusiastically, though Sam doubted he even understood the question.  
  
Sam grinned. “Yeah! Me too! Mommy loves the outside.”  
  
Dean grabbed an old hat that Bobby had loaned him and pulled it on, opening up the door. “Okay, Dylan, time for snow.” He stepped out of the way to let Sam and Dylan walk out, then peered back into the house, nodding at John and Bobby. “We’ll be around.”  
  
John nodded and Bobby didn’t even look up from the television, just continued drinking his coffee.  
  
Dean stepped outside and pulled the door closed behind him, shivering immediately. He shoved his hands in his pocket and followed behind Sam, into the small front yard. “Be careful Sam, there could pieces of scrap metal under all this snow.”  
  
Sam rolled his eyes and turned back to Dean. “All this snow? Dean, it’s barely four inches deep. Calm down.” He leaned down and let Dylan out of his arm, keeping his hands on Dylan’s tiny hips. “Be careful, okay Dylan?”  
  
Dylan looked away from Sam, watching the snow in wonder, as if he was waiting for it to do something.   
  
“Dylan?” Sam said again, reaching up to cup Dylan’s cheek, getting his attention back on him. “Just stay with Mommy and Daddy, okay?”  
  
Dylan nodded and reached up, scratching at his head, before trying to pull his hat off.  
  
“No, Dylan,” Sam said, taking Dylan’s hand away from his hat. “Okay, what do you wanna do?”  
  
Dylan reached down and grabbed a handful of the snow, lifting it up to Sam. “Mama.”  
  
Sam smiled and gave Dylan a kiss, before taking a deep breath and sitting down in the snow. “Oh Christ,” he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut.   
  
“If you’re not careful your dick’ll fall off,” Dean warned, pacing around the yard.  
  
Dylan tried to jump up into the snow, but he just fell over, landing in the snow.  
  
“Oop, be careful little boy,” Sam said, helping Dylan back up. He wiped the snow off Dylan’s pants, fixing his hat. “Don’t wanna hurt yourself.”  
  
Dylan crouched down and grabbed more snow, grinning wide. He giggled and looked up at Sam, offering the snow up to him again.  
  
“Dean, would you stop pacing and get over here?” Sam demanded, looking over at Dean. “It’s just snow, sit down.”  
  
Dean huffed and rolled his eyes, but finally sat down beside Sam, trying not to make a sound at the freezing coldness of it all. “Kansas.”  
  
Sam frowned and looked over at Dean, letting Dylan climb onto his lap. “What?”  
  
“Louisiana,” Dean continued on. “Texas. Oklahoma. California. Do any of those states sound like they’ve prepared me to shove my ass into the freezing snow?”  
  
Sam laughed, shaking his head. “Well me and Dylan don’t have any problems with it, so I don’t know what the hell you’re moaning and groaning about over there.”  
  
Dean shifted on the ground, feeling the wetness soak through to his boxers. “I’m cold, Sam!” he protested, wrapping his arms around his knees.   
  
“But look how happy Dylan is,” Sam pointed out. “That makes it worth it, doesn’t it?”  
  
“I’m not sure how much my dick is worth, Sam,” Dean muttered, looking around the yard. “Dylan’s smile? Maybe not.”  
  
Dylan climbed back off of Sam and began walking around the yard, looking down at his feet. He stumbled slightly and reached out to catch himself. “Oof,” he groaned as he hit the ground, before pushing himself back up. “Daddy!” he squealed, looking over at Dean.  
  
“I see ya, Dylan,” Dean said flatly, pulling Bobby’s hat down further. “I see ya.”  
  
Dylan looked up when he heard some snow fall of off Bobby’s roof. He pointed and looked back at Sam and Dean, who were both watching him carefully.   
  
“I don’t think so, Dylan,” Sam said, reaching out to Dylan, but Dylan just jerked away from Sam, taking a step towards the house. “Dylan, I said _no_ ,” Sam said slowly, making sure Dylan heard the word ‘no’. He sighed and moved to push himself up, but Dean just put his hand on his knee.  
  
“Dylan, come back over here please,” Dean said, holding his hand to Dylan.  
  
Dylan shook his head and flinched when more snow fell off the roof. His eyes opened wide and he took another step towards the house.  
  
“He’s gonna hurt himself,” Sam muttered, pushing Dean’s hand off his knee, standing up.  
  
“Sam, it’s just snow,” Dean said, looking up at Sam.  
  
“I don’t care,” Sam said, turning back to Dean. “He needs to learn to listen to us.”  
  
“You want him to listen to _you_ ,” Dean pointed out, standing up.  
  
Sam rolled his eyes and turned back to Dylan, just in time to see Dylan move under where the snow had been falling. He looked up when he heard the sound of the snow sliding off the roof and took a large step, grabbing onto Dylan’s arm, yanking him away from the falling snow.  
  
Dylan landed in the snow by Sam’s feet, face red as he began to cry loudly, trying to pull his arm out of Sam’s hand.  
  
“Christ, Sam!” Dean exclaimed, looking down at Dylan. “What are you trying to do, yank his arm off?”  
  
“I was trying to keep him from getting hurt!” Sam snapped, glaring at Dean. “He’s a _fucking brat_ who can’t do what he’s told.”  
  
Dean stared at Sam in disbelief. “He’s not even two years old!” he reminded him. “He doesn’t know what we’re saying.”  
  
“He knows the word ‘no’ and he disobeys it anyway,” Sam said angrily, yanking Dylan up onto his feet.  
  
“Sam, you’re going to hurt him,” Dean said, reaching out to Sam. “Just let him go.”  
  
Sam took a deep breath and could feel his fingers squeezing even tighter around Dylan’s arm, causing Dylan to cry even louder.  
  
“Sam,” Dean said, touching Sam’s shoulder.  
  
Sam jerked away from Dean liked he’d been burned and he let go of Dylan’s arm, stumbling back a couple feet. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, looking down at Dylan. He shook his head and looked up at Dean. “I didn’t mean to.”  
  
“He’s okay,” Dean assured him, lifting Dylan up into his arms, holding him close. “He’ll be fine.”  
  
Sam dropped his eyes and shoved his hands in his pockets, rushing by Dean back to the front door, quickly going in.  
  
“Sam?” John asked, looking up.  
  
Sam ignored John and hurried up the stairs, taking them two at a time.   
  
“Sam?” John asked again, pushing himself up.  
  
Bobby finally looked up, hearing Sam bang around upstairs.  
  
Sam grabbed his duffel bag and quickly checked to see how much of his clothes were in there.  
  
John looked at Dean when he walked into the house, Dylan in his arms, his cheeks stained with tears. “Dean, what the hell is going on?”  
  
“Where is he?” Dean asked, ignoring John’s question.  
  
“Upstairs,” Bobby answered, answering before John could even open his mouth to speak.  
  
“Dean,” John said warningly. “What is going on?”  
  
Dean was about to answer before he heard Sam on the stairs again, bag in hand. “So you’re leaving?” he asked, ignoring John completely now.  
  
Sam shook his head and ran down the stairs, swallowing hard when Dean stepped in his way.  
  
“Sam, you can’t leave,” Dean said, shifting Dylan in his arms.  
  
“I hurt him,” Sam said quietly, looking down at the bag in his hand. “I hurt him.”  
  
“You were trying to protect him,” Dean said, paraphrasing Sam’s earlier words to him. “That snow coulda hurt him. He’s little and that snow’s heavy.”   
  
“I hurt him,” Sam said again, shaking his head. “I hurt my son.”  
  
“What do you mean you hurt him?” John asked, trying to step in between Dean and Sam.  
  
Sam glanced at John, as if realizing he was there for the first time and tried to step around both John and Dean, trying to get to the door. “Move,” he said, voice rough, looking at Dean.  
  
Dean shook his head and crouched down, setting Dylan on the floor, pointing to Bobby.  
  
Dylan walked around Sam and Dean and John and started crying again, walking over to Bobby.   
  
Bobby lifted Dylan up onto his lap and pulled Dylan’s hat off first, taking his mittens off next. “Are you okay, Dylan?” he asked softly, undoing Dylan’s jacket.  
  
“I hurt him,” Sam repeated, dropping his bag. “ _No_ , he’s not okay! Check his arm if you don’t believe me!”  
  
Bobby stared at Sam in disbelief before rolling Dylan’s sleeve up, seeing the red fingerprints on Dylan’s pale skin. “What’d you do to him, Sam?” he asked, looking back over at Sam.  
  
“I hurt him!” Sam screamed. “I grabbed onto him and I hurt him!”  
  
“Dylan was getting too close to the falling snow and Sam grabbed onto his arm and pulled him out of the way,” Dean explained calmly. “After that…”  
  
“After that I didn’t let go,” Sam gritted, “and I hurt him. Okay, Dean, remember that? Remember when I made him cry? And I called him a fucking brat? Why’d you leave that part out, Dean?”  
  
John looked at Dean for confirmation, glancing back at Dylan when Dean nodded.  
  
“Just let me go,” Sam pleaded at Dean.  
  
“Where you gonna go?” Dean asked quietly, stepping closer to Sam.  
  
Sam shrugged and shook his head. “I don’t know. Anywhere. Not here.”  
  
Dean thought for a moment and looked over at Dylan and Bobby before looking up at John. He looked back at Sam and shook his head. “I can’t let you go.”  
  
Sam’s eyes filled with tears and he dropped to his knees in front of Dean, shoulders shaking with trying to keep his cries in, hands trying to clutch at the floor.  
  
Dean crouched in front of Sam and pushed his hair off his face, pressing his lips to Sam’s forehead. “Stay, Sam. Please. Want to stay. He’s going to be okay.”  
  
Sam finally nodded, pulling Dean in for a hug, burying his face in Dean’s chest. “Okay.”  
  
Dean smiled thankfully, rubbing Sam’s back gently. “Okay.” He looked up at John and swallowed hard. “Okay.”   
  
 

*** * * ***

  
“Why didn’t you let me leave?” Sam asked the dark room, not even sure that Dean was awake. He closed his eyes for the few tense seconds before Dean finally answered.  
  
“Because you didn’t really want to,” Dean said, curling up behind Sam.  
  
“Yeah, I did,” Sam admitted, reaching down to cover Dean’s hand with his, squeezing it tightly.   
  
“Sam, you just got angry,” Dean said, pressing a kiss to Sam’s shoulder blade. “You just got angry and-- and you didn’t really hurt him, he’s fine.”  
  
“I made him cry,” Sam reminded Dean. “I don’t know what happened. I just-- he didn’t listen and I just saw him, in my head, getting hit with the snow. I had to move him.”  
  
“Like-- like a vision?” Dean asked, lifting his head off the pillow.  
  
Sam shook his head. “Not a vision. Just…I heard the snow and he was standing right there. I didn’t want him to get hurt.”  
  
“Oh,” Dean nodded, laying his head back down. “I get that. I mean, every time I’m with him I picture everything bad that could ever happen happening to him. That’s why we’re good parents, Sam, we take care of our son.”  
  
Sam shook his head again. “He’s going to have bruises.”  
  
“Bruises fade,” Dean pointed out. “And Dylan’s never going to remember. He’s probably forgotten all about it now. And today’s Christmas; his mind’s gonna be nowhere near what happened yesterday.”  
  
“Did you see the way Dad and Bobby looked at me?” Sam asked, shifting in Dean’s arms.   
  
“They both get it, Sam,” Dean assured him. “I mean, come on, our father was our goddamn drill sergeant, you think he never did to us what you did to Dylan?”  
  
“I don’t remember it,” Sam said quietly.  
  
“That’s my point,” Dean said, smiling against Sam’s back. “And neither will Dylan. Now come on, get back to sleep.”  
  
“Why?” Sam asked.  
  
“‘Cause Santa won’t come if you’re awake,” Dean said, still smiling.  
  
Finally, Sam smiled.  
  
 

*** * * ***

  
“Hot chocolate?” Bobby asked, offering the mug to Sam.  
  
Sam looked up at Bobby, smiling gratefully before taking the mug from him. “Thank you.”  
  
Bobby said down beside Sam and watched Dean help Dylan unwrap one of his presents. “Sleep okay?”  
  
Sam reached up to scratch at his cheek before shrugging. “Yeah, okay. Coulda been worse.”  
  
“I heard Dylan slept good,” Bobby said, glancing over at John.   
  
“That’s good,” Sam nodded. He looked down at Dylan, wondering if the bruises on Dylan’s arm stood out as much to everyone else in the room as they did to him.  
  
“They’ll fade in a couple days,” Bobby said, looking at Sam.  
  
“What’s that?” Dean asked, helping Dylan peel the last bit of paper off his present. “What is it, Dylan?”  
  
Dylan’s eyes opened wide and he put the truck down on the floor, pushing it back and forth.  
  
“Wow, it’s a truck!” Dean exclaimed. “Looks like Grampie’s truck. Wow. Who gave ya that, Dylan?”  
  
Dylan looked up at Dean, lifting the truck up.  
  
“Did Grampie give you that?” Dean asked, looking at the wrapping paper. “Yes, he did! Wow, gonna say thank you to Grampie?” He pointed to John. “Thank you, Dylan, say thank you.”  
  
Dylan set his truck down and pushed himself up, picking the truck up again before walking over to John. He held the truck out and grinned, giggling.  
  
John grinned back and leaned down, letting Dylan give him a kiss. “You’re welcome, Dylan.”  
  
Dylan walked back over to Dean and sat down, pushing his truck along the floor some more.  
  
“Next present,” Dean said, handing one to Dylan. “Who’s it from?” He checked the tag. “Who’s it from, what’s that say?”  
  
Dylan looked down at the tag, hitting it with his hand.  
  
“Mommy!” Dean agreed. “That’s right, Mommy gave this to you. What’d Mommy give you?”  
  
Dylan grabbed at the paper, ripping it off the box. “Whassat?” he asked, studying the box.  
  
“I don’t know, lemme see,” Dean said, turning the box towards him. “Wow, it’s the Weebles! Hansel and Gretel’s Wobbly Adventure. Hansel and Gretel? Wow, I love that story. Are you gonna thank Mommy?”  
  
“Mama,” Dylan said, lifting his head. He pushed himself up again, using Dean’s knee, walking over to Sam, leaning against his legs. “Hi,” he said softly, looking up at Sam.  
  
Sam swallowed hard and took a deep breath before lifting Dylan up, careful not to touch his bruises. “Hi.”  
  
Dylan stepped closer to Sam, feet digging into Sam’s leg, wrapping an arm around Sam’s neck. He gave Sam a kiss on the cheek, giggling when he pulled back.  
  
Sam smiled and gave Dylan a kiss of his own, rubbing Dylan’s back. “Have I ever told you about Hansel and Gretel, Dylan? Grampie used to tell me and Daddy all the time. Do you wanna hear it?”  
  
“Yeah,” Dylan nodded, turning around on Sam’s lap to sit down, leaning against Sam’s stomach.   
  
Dean opened up the box and pulled out the tiny plastic Hansel and Gretel, grinning. He lifted them up and showed them to John, who just rolled his eyes. “These are awesome,” Dean murmured, making the two toys kiss each other.  
  
Sam smiled and wrapped an arm around Dylan’s shoulders, holding him closer. He ran his fingers over Dylan’s arm, swallowing hard at the bruises. He leaned down and gave Dylan a kiss. “I love you, Dill Pickle.”  
  
Bobby smiled and looked over at John, taking a sip of his coffee.  
  
“Okay, now, for the story,” Sam said, shifting on the couch. “Dean, are you listening?” he asked.  
  
Dean looked up at Sam. “Actually, I’m trying to get the clothes off little plastic Gretel,” he admitted.  
  
“Sweet Jesus,” Bobby murmured, shaking his head.  
  
“Dean, why don’t you put the dolls down and listen to Sam?” John suggested.   
  
“They’re not dolls,” Dean said automatically, turning on the floor to look at Sam. “Okay, Sam, lay it on me.”  
  
Sam studied Dean carefully, noticing something off about him. “Dean, where’s Hansel?”  
  
Dean’s eyes opened wide and he looked down at the floor. “Uh, well, heh, you know…” He stuck his hand down his shirt, pulling Hansel out.   
  
John and Bobby both began laughing loudly.  
  
“I don’t even wanna know,” Sam said, shaking his head. He ran his fingers over Dylan’s bruises once more before finally starting the story. “Hansel and Gretel were brother and sister, and they lived together, with their father and stepmother in a small shack in the woods. Their father was just a lumberjack, and he didn’t make enough money. Okay?”  
  
“Kay,” Dylan echoed.   
  
“Wait, wait,” Dean interrupted, frowning. “I thought that they lived in a town.”  
  
“What?” Sam asked, looking up at Dean.  
  
“Like a town,” Dean said. “With other people. Why would they live in the woods?”  
  
“Because their father was a lumberjack,” Sam pointed out. “Why would they live in a town?”  
  
“I work in a CD store,” Dean began, “I don’t live in the factory where they make CDs.”  
  
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Sam said, shaking his head. “They live in the woods.”  
  
“But the witch lived in the woods,” Dean pointed out. “How would the kids go _into_ the woods if they already lived there? They live in a town.”  
  
“If they lived in a town, Dean, it’d be a lot easier for Hansel and Gretel to find their way home,” Sam said. “They live in the woods, that’s why they had to use the rocks and breadcrumbs to find their way home. If they lived in a town they could just see the smoke in the sky or just walk until they found a huge clearing with a bunch of houses.”  
  
Dean stared at Sam for a moment, before his eyes lit up. “Hey, did you know that in the Blair Witch Project you can see like, where the trees end? You can see where there’s a field. Isn’t that awesome?”  
  
Bobby turned his head slowly to look at John in disbelief. “You sure raised a winner there, John.”  
  
John shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee. “Well, the other one got a free ride to Stanford. I think it evens out.”  
  

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Title:** Look What Love Has Done - Volume 3 - Chapter 4  
**Pairing:** Sam/Dean  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine  
**Rating:** PG-13 this chapter  
**Summary:** Sam and Dean take Dylan grocery shopping and come home with a little something other than food.  
**Author's Note:** Forget volume one, forget volume two; this is volume three

 

**two years, seven months and three days old**  
  
“There?” Dylan asked, pointing to the pet store.  
  
Sam and Dean both glanced to the store. “No, Dylan,” Sam said, shaking his head, “that’s not where we’re going.” He looked up at Dylan and tightened his hold on Dylan’s feet.  
  
Dylan slipped his fingers back into Sam’s hair, looking around the mall. “Where?”  
  
“Groceries,” Dean answered, looking up at Dylan. “We’re running out of food, buddy.”  
  
“Yeah!” Dylan exclaimed, nodding his head. “Kay.”  
  
“Okay, glad you approve, Dylan,” Dean smiled.  
  
Sam smiled and rolled his eyes, looking up at Dylan. “You okay up there, Dylan? Not too high?”  
  
Dylan shook his head. “I good.”  
  
“Good,” Sam said, smiling. “Do you mind if Mommy carries you for a bit?”  
  
Dean glanced back at Sam, frowning. “He’s not going to fall, Sam. You’re holding onto him.”  
  
“He could,” Sam said, looking up at Dylan, who was looking around the mall delightfully. “Dylan, Mommy’s gonna carry you for a bit, okay?”  
  
“Why?” Dylan asked, looking down at Sam.  
  
“Because I don’t want you to fall,” Sam said, letting go of Dylan’s ankles to lift him off his shoulders.  
  
“Why?” Dylan asked again.  
  
Dean smiled and grabbed a shopping cart, shaking his head. “Shoulda just let him stay on your shoulders Sam.”  
  
“Because if you fell and got hurt, me and Daddy would be really upset,” Sam said, bouncing Dylan up in his arms a bit to get a better grip on him.  
  
Dylan wrapped his tiny fingers around one of Sam’s and nodded. “Why?”  
  
“Because we love you,” Sam smiled, giving Dylan a kiss. “Don’t you love me and Daddy?”  
  
Dylan nodded. “Daddy, juice.”  
  
“I know Dylan, it’s on the list,” Dean assured him, turning around to look at Dylan. “What else do you want?”  
  
Dylan shook his head and squirmed in Sam’s arms, trying to get down to the floor. “Mommy, let go.”  
  
“Dylan, you don’t wanna walk around here,” Sam said softly, running his fingers through Dylan’s hair. “You’re gonna get really tired. Let Mommy carry you.”  
  
“Want down,” Dylan whined, squirming around a bit more.  
  
“Sam, let the kid down,” Dean muttered, grabbing a loaf of bread. “Let him walk.”  
  
“Fine,” Sam muttered, stooping down to let Dylan out of his arms.  
  
Dylan giggled and ran the few feet ahead to catch up with Dean, grasping onto his hand. “Apple.”  
  
“You want apples?” Dean asked, glancing down at Dylan.  
  
Dylan smiled and nodded eagerly.  
  
“What do you say?” Sam asked, grasping onto Dylan’s other hand. “What do you say when you want something, Dylan?”  
  
Dylan shook his head. “Do’ know.”  
  
“You do too know,” Sam said as he stopped. He crouched down in front of Dylan. “Do you say…plea--”  
  
“Please!” Dylan interrupted, looking up at Dean. “Please, Daddy.”  
  
“Good boy,” Sam said, kissing Dylan’s forehead. He stood back up and continued on walking.  
  
“What color apples do you want, Dylan?” Dean asked, reaching down to lift Dylan up to look at the fruit. “We’ve got red, and red, there’s some more red…yellow, or green.”  
  
“Green!” Dylan exclaimed, reaching out for the bag of Granny Smiths. “Please.”  
  
“Sam, the apples please,” Dean said, setting Dylan back down.  
  
Sam grabbed the bag of apples and tossed them into the grocery cart.  
  
Dylan ran ahead of Sam and Dean before giggling loudly and turning back around.  
  
“Dylan, make sure we can see you!” Sam called, right before Dylan ran into the next aisle. “I’ll get him.” He followed behind Dylan and let out a sigh of relief when he saw that Dylan had stopped, looking at the salad dressings. “Dylan, you have to stay with Mommy and Daddy, right?”  
  
“Yeah,” Dylan said, walking back over to Sam. He grasped onto Sam’s hand and let him Sam lead him back over to the grocery cart and Dean.  
  
“Don’t do that again Dylan,” Dean said flatly, putting a package back on the shelf. “Don’t wanna lose ya.” He looked over at Sam, giving him a sly smile. “‘Cause Dylan…you know what happens to kids who get lost or left behind in the grocery store, right?” He crouched down in front of Dylan.  
  
Dylan shook his head, watching Dean. “No.”  
  
“They get turned into food!” Dean said, grasping onto Dylan’s sides to tickle him. “Your green eyes would turn into green apples.”  
  
Dylan shook his head as he giggled loudly.  
  
“Your blonde hair would be…pasta!” Dean continued, moving his hands up to tickle Dylan’s neck. “Isn’t that scary?”  
  
Dylan nodded breathlessly, trying to get away from Dean’s hands. “Yeah.”  
  
“So stay with Mommy and Daddy, okay?” Dean said softly, holding onto Dylan’s hands. “Please?”  
  
“Kay,” Dylan nodded, before leaning in to give Dean a kiss.  
  
“Okay, moving on,” Dean said, standing back up. “You want anything, Sammy?”  
  
Sam shook his head, squeezing Dylan’s hand gently in his. “I’m good.”  
  
“Good,” Dean grinned, leaning in to give Sam a kiss of his own, “‘cause I wasn’t gonna get you anything anyway.” He gave Sam another kiss, reaching up to pull on the ends of Sam’s hair. “Get a haircut, ya damn hippie.”  
  
Sam laughed and started leading Dylan down the aisle, glancing back to make sure that Dean was following with the grocery cart. “Man, do you think Dad was ever a hippie?”  
  
Dean stared at Sam for a second before he burst out laughing. “Dad was in the Marines. No way in hell he was a hippie.”  
  
“But we never asked him _why_ he was in the Marines,” Sam pointed out. “Maybe Grampie got so frustrated with his damn hippiness--”  
  
“Not a word,” Dean interrupted, examining a package closely.  
  
“Urban Dictionary says it is,” Sam said, continuing on without a beat, “so maybe he was all ‘John, my boy, either cut your hair or join the Marines’--”  
  
“When did Grampa start sounding like the dad from The Waltons?”  
  
Sam continued on, ignoring Dean completely. “And Dad being the anti-establishment man that we know and love--”  
  
Dean began to laugh again, grabbing a box of hamburgers. “And what, Dad chose his hair?”  
  
Sam shrugged. “I guess. But, he’d have to cut it anyway, wouldn’t he?”  
  
“Now Mom, Mom could’ve been a hippie,” Dean said, reaching out to grasp onto Dylan’s shoulder as he stumbled slightly. “I mean, I admit, I don’t remember everything about her but she seems like she’d be a very ‘peace, love, earth’ type of woman. And since I think your Dad theory is crap and you had to inherit being a hippie from _somebody_ , I’m going with Mom.”  
  
Sam sighed and nodded, looking down when Dylan pulled on his arm. “Yeah, Dylan?”  
  
“Mom?” Dylan asked, looking up Sam. “Whodat?”  
  
Sam looked over at Dean and crouched down in front of Dylan, reaching out to brush Dylan’s hair out of his eyes. “Me and Daddy were talking about _our_ mommy.”  
  
“Oh,” Dylan said softly, nodding.  
  
“She’s where you get your blonde hair from,” Sam said, smiling.  
  
“Yeah,” Dylan said, reaching up run his tiny fingers through his hair. “Hair.”  
  
“Yeah,” Sam echoed, pressing his lips to Dylan’s forehead, holding him close for a moment. “I love you, Dylan,” he said quietly.  
  
Dylan nodded, using Sam’s knee to help push himself up so he could wrap his arms around Sam’s neck. “Okay.”  
  
Sam smiled and nodded. “Okay then.”  
  
“You okay, Sam?” Dean asked, swallowing hard.  
  
“Yeah,” Sam nodded, standing up. He cleared his throat and grasped onto Dylan’s hand again, looking around the aisle. “I hate grocery shopping. I never know what we need.”  
  
“It’s all up here, baby,” Dean said, tapping his temple.  
  
“So what do we need?” Sam asked.  
  
“Juice,” Dean answered, smiling. “Dylan, what type of juice do you want?”  
  
Dylan shook his head, looking down at his feet.  
  
“You don’t know?” Dean asked.  
  
Dylan shook his head again. “Do’ know,” he echoed, looking up at Dean.  
  
“Want Daddy to pick for you?” Dean asked, looking at all the cartons of juice.  
  
“Okay,” Dylan answered.  
  
“Okay,” Dean murmured, reaching down to ruffle Dylan’s hair. “Well, we got apples, so you don’t need apple juice. I like orange juice, let’s get that.”  
  
Dylan slipped his hand out of Sam’s and walked behind the cart, raising his arm above his head, trying to reach the handle.  
  
“You’re too tiny to push,” Dean said, putting the orange juice in the cart before leaning down to lift Dylan up, setting him in the cart. “How’s that?”  
  
Dylan looked around, smiling back at Sam. “Mommy!” he cried, reaching out to Sam.  
  
“Whoa there buddy,” Dean said, steadying Dylan with his hand. “Don’t wanna fall out. Be careful.”  
  
“Kay,” Dylan agreed, turning around to sit down.  
  
“Dean, stop carting our son around like groceries,” Sam said, following along beside Dean.  
  
Dean shrugged. “He wanted in. See, now he can’t run off and we won’t get tired of carrying him.” He began pushing the cart down the aisle, sticking his head out to make sure he wasn’t going to run into anyone else. “Look Dylan, diapers.”  
  
“Yeah,” Dylan nodded, picking at the other things in the cart.  
  
“Are we still buying diapers?” Dean asked, stopping in front of the display.  
  
“Yeah,” Dylan said again, tilting his head back to look up at Dean.  
  
“Okay,” Dean said, leaning down to give Dylan a kiss as Sam walked around him, grabbing a package, setting them beside Dylan in the cart. “But we’re going to try potty-training again, right?”  
  
Dylan shook his head. “No.”  
  
Dean sighed and looked up at Sam, who just shrugged. “Well, we will _eventually_ ,” he said finally, pushing the cart again, “but maybe not for a few more days.”  
  
Dylan took a deep breath and leaned against the package of diapers, closing his eyes. “Ow,” he said softly, shifting in the cart.  
  
Sam looked at Dean pointedly and reached into the cart, lifting Dylan out. “I’m just gonna hold ya, ‘kay?”  
  
Dylan nodded and curled against Sam’s chest, closing his eyes.  
  
Dean glanced down at his watch then looked at the small amount of food in the cart. “This is gonna be a long day, huh?”  
  
 

*** * * ***

  
“We need jam,” Dean said, looking at all of the jars in front of him. “Or jelly. I’ve had this insane craving for a PB and J sandwich for like, the last week.”  
  
Sam smiled and kissed Dylan’s forehead before crouching down, letting him down onto the floor. “You want jam, Dean.”  
  
“Well what’s the difference?” Dean asked, holding two jars up to Sam.   
  
Sam shrugged. “One’s like Jell-O. Really hard to spread. Just get jam, Dean, come on, it’s getting late.” He leaned against the shelf, jumping when he thought he felt it shift beneath him. “Nothing with strawberries, unless we’re getting more than one.”  
  
“I’m not stupid Sam, I know we can’t get strawberries,” Dean snapped, turning around to set a jar of apricot jam in the grocery cart, and a second jar of blueberry. “Dylan, is there any kind that you want?” he asked, studying the display. “Dylan?”  
  
Sam and Dean both looked down, frowning when they realized Dylan wasn’t with them anymore.   
  
“I’ll go get him,” Sam said, stepping around the cart to walk out of the aisle. He turned left first and checked the next aisle. No Dylan. He walked over to the aisle to the right of Dean and glanced down, again not seeing Dylan. He walked back to the end of Dean’s aisle.  
  
“Got him?” Dean asked.  
  
Sam swallowed hard and shook his head. “He couldn’t have gotten that far.”   
  
Dean looked up at Sam and slowly set the jar of jam in his hand back on the shelf. “No, he couldn’t have. Tiny legs only go so fast.” He left the grocery cart and followed Sam to the end of the aisle, looking around. “Dylan, you around?” he asked loudly, earning a couple glances from other customers in the store. “Dylan?”  
  
“Split up?” Sam suggested, already walking away from Dean.  
  
“Sure,” Dean said, walking in the opposite direction. He checked all of the aisles, pausing for a moment at the end of each, hoping to see Dylan round the corner with a huge grin on his face. “Dylan!” he yelled, not caring that he heard someone snickering behind him.  
  
Sam looked around nervously, shaking his head, muttering to himself. “He has to be here, he has to be here. Dylan!”  
  
“Excuse me sir,” someone said from behind Sam, causing him to jump.   
  
Sam turned around and was faced with an employee of the store, his nametag reading Mike. “My son, I can’t find my son.”  
  
“How old is he?” Mike asked, looking around when he heard Dean yelling Dylan’s name. “His son too?”  
  
Sam nodded. “He-- he’s two. And a half. Blonde hair, green eyes. We just looked away for a second. I swear, it was just a second.”  
  
“Find him?” Dean asked, rushing over to Sam.  
  
Sam shook his head and looked away from Mike, tears filling his eyes. “Dean, what-- what are we going to do?”  
  
“We’re going to find him,” Dean said softly, ignoring the other man to pull Sam in for a hug. “Now come on, he-- he-- he couldn’t’ve gone that far.”  
  
“What if somebody--” Sam began, but Dean just cut him off.  
  
“No,” Dean interrupted. “He just wandered off, Sam.”  
  
“I’ll contact mall security,” Mike said, grabbing his walkie-talkie. “Blonde hair, right?”  
  
Sam nodded and looked around helplessly, grabbing onto Dean’s hand, pulling him back in. “Dean, where _is_ he?”  
  
Dean shook his head, running his fingers through Sam’s hair. “Come on, let’s look for him together. Which aisle did he run into before? Maybe he went back.”  
  
“Salad dressing,” Sam mumbled, letting Dean lead him away from the man talking on his walkie-talkie. “I don’t know why he was there.”   
  
Dean sighed when they got to the aisle with the salad dressing, shaking his head. “Where is he?” he gritted, looking around. “Dylan!” he yelled, looking around. “Dylan, _please_ , if you can hear me come here!”  
  
Sam reached up with his trembling hand and wiped at his eyes, walking away from Dean. “Dylan! Dylan, where are you?” He walked around back to the entrance they came in and turned around as he began to retrace his steps. “Apples,” he murmured, looking at the fruit. “Green apples.” He sighed and looked up when he saw Dean walking over. “I’m retracing our steps.”  
  
Dean nodded and followed alongside Sam, looking around the store. “The-- that guy…mall security’s looking for him.”  
  
Sam sniffled and squeezed his eyes shut, stopping in his tracks for a moment. “He could be gone,” he said softly, reaching out for Dean’s hand.  
  
“He’s not,” Dean snapped, squeezing Sam’s hand. “He isn’t. He-- he’s just hiding. He’s here. He’s still in the store.”  
  
Sam nodded and started walking again, looking around. “Dylan!” he yelled, causing an elderly woman near them to jump. “Dylan baby, come back out. We won’t be mad.”  
  
“Dylan!” Dean yelled, reaching up to rub at his eyes. “Dylan, please! Dylan!”  
  
“Shut up!” a teenaged boy yelled back from one of the magazine racks.   
  
Dean dropped Sam’s hand from his and stormed over to the teenager, grabbing his shirt to pull him in. “Listen you little brat--”  
  
“Hey!” the woman from beside him yelled. “Let go of him!”  
  
“My son is missing, you peckerhead,” Dean continued on, shaking the teenager. “My little boy is missing so I will _not_ shut up.”  
  
Sam walked over and grabbed onto Dean’s shoulder, trying to pull him off the kid. “Dean, stop, come on.”  
  
“I’m-- I’m sorry,” the teenager stuttered out, looking up at Dean. “I’m sorry.”  
  
“Good,” Dean said angrily, shoving the kid away. He stepped back and turned around, shaking Sam’s hand off of him. “Don’t touch me, Sam. A fucking de--” he stopped talking and stepped closer to Sam, looking around. “A fucking _demon_ could’ve taken him. Don’t tell me to stop.” He walked away from Sam, looking around the store as he continued to retrace their steps.   
  
Sam wiped at his eyes and his nose and looked around, nodding apologetically at the teenager as he walked by. “Has anybody seen him?” Sam asked when Mike walked over to him. “Please, has anybody seen him?”  
  
“They checked security cameras leading out of the mall,” Mike said, looking up at the roof as if he was trying to remember what to say, word for word.   
  
“And?” Sam asked.  
  
“He’s still in the mall,” Mike said optimistically. “Next they’re checking the cameras out of this store.”  
  
Sam nodded and hurried after Dean. “He’s still in the mall.”  
  
“Good,” Dean said, nodding sharply. “Unless--”  
  
“We would’ve noticed,” Sam said quickly, becoming more confident that they were going to find Dylan. “Sulphur, or something, we would’ve noticed.”  
  
“We told him not to leave us,” Dean said angrily, shaking his head. “We told him, Sam. Why didn’t he listen to us?”  
  
“Because he’s a kid,” Sam said, looking around. “Because he’s a Winchester.”  
  
Dean glanced back at Sam, trying not to smile. “Sam, what if--” He shook his head as more tears sprung to his eyes, stinging. “Fuck, Sam, what if--” his voice broke and he looked away from Sam, reaching out to one of the shelves to lean against. “Sam,” he said softly before his shoulders began to shake and he let out a broken sob. “God,” he muttered, gripping the shelf, knuckles white. “Sam, tell me I’m dreaming. Tell me I fell asleep on the couch. Tell me this is just a nightmare.”  
  
Sam swallowed hard, reaching out to Dean. “I should’ve left him in the cart. He wouldn’t’ve been able to climb out.”  
  
Dean sniffled, wiping at his nose. “We’re just wasting time. He’s not in the grocery store anymore.”  
  
“There’s the whole rest of the mall he could be,” Sam muttered. “How are we supposed to find him?”  
  
Dean’s shoulders began to shake again. “He’s just a little boy. He’s all alone in the mall, Sam and he’s just a little boy.”  
  
“He’s going to be okay,” Sam assured him quietly, wrapping his arms around Dean, pulling him in. “He _has_ to be. After everything…he just has to be.” He kissed the back of Dean’s neck, taking a deep breath. “He’ll be okay.”  
  
“What’s he wearing?” someone asked from behind them.  
  
Sam let go of Dean and turned around, swallowing when he saw Mike, holding his walkie-talkie. “Did they find him?”  
  
“What’s he wearing?” Mike asked again.  
  
“Where is he?” Dean asked, turning around. “Just tell us.”  
  
Mike sighed. “Pet store.”  
  
Dean and Sam looked at each other before rushing past Mike.   
  
“What do you want me to do with your groceries?” Mike called after them.  
  
“Hold them!” Dean yelled, running after Sam towards the pet store.  
  
Sam skidded to a stop before walking quickly into the pet store, glancing at the cashier, who pointed towards the back. He held his breath until he saw Dylan, face and hands pressed up against the glass, looking at a rabbit. He let out a sigh of relief and glanced back at Dean, tears filling his eyes. “Dylan,” he said quietly, stepping towards Dylan.  
  
“Look it, Mama,” Dylan said, stepping back. “Blankie.”  
  
“Yeah, soft like blankie,” Sam agreed, moving behind Dylan. He knelt down on the floor, wrapping an arm around Dylan’s waist. “What are you doing here, Dylan?”  
  
“Are you okay, Dylan?” Dean asked, crouching down to press a kiss to Dylan’s head.   
  
Dylan nodded, looking back at Dean. “Kay.”  
  
“Thank God,” Dean breathed, giving Dylan another kiss.   
  
“What are you doing here, Dylan?” Sam asked again, holding Dylan even closer.  
  
“Wan’ see,” Dylan said, reaching out to the rabbit.   
  
“Wanted to see the animals?” Sam asked.  
  
Dylan nodded. “Yeah. Mama, whassat?”  
  
“It’s a bunny,” Sam said, pressing a kiss to Dylan’s temple. He glanced back at Dean, who was nodding slowly. “You wanna take it home?”  
  
Dylan looked back at Sam and Dean, eyes wide. “Home?”  
  
Sam grinned and Dean nodded. “Yeah, buddy, take it home with us,” Dean said.  
  
“Yeah!” Dylan exclaimed, pressing his hands to the glass again. “Whassit name?”  
  
“You have to name it,” Sam said quietly.   
  
“Me?” Dylan asked, looking back at Sam and Dean again. “Okay.”  
  
“Okay,” Sam said, nodding. “We’re going to go get the groceries, okay? Then we’ll come back.” He stood up and grasped onto Dylan’s hand, leading him away from the glass.  
  
“Dylan, me and Mommy have to talk to you about something,” Dean said, grasping onto Dylan’s other hand. “Are you listening?”  
  
Dylan nodded, looking at Dean’s hand around his.  
  
“You can’t ever do that again,” Dean said.   
  
“What?” Dylan asked, trying to run ahead but Sam and Dean’s hands kept him in place.   
  
“You can’t leave us like that again,” Dean replied. “Without telling us first. But stay with Mommy and me, okay?”  
  
“Okay,” Dylan nodded, looking back at the pet store. “There?”  
  
“We gotta finish groceries,” Sam said again. “But we’re going back to get the bunny, right?”  
  
“Yeah,” Dylan said. “Bunny.”  
  
“What are you going to name it?” Sam asked, smiling down at Dylan before looking over at Dean.  
  
 

*** * * ***

  
Sam punched his pillow a couple times, smiling down at Dean. “The first Winchester pet.”  
  
Dean rolled his eyes and stretched out on the bed, yawning. “How long do rabbits live for?”  
  
“The lady at the pet store said like, seven to twelve years,” Sam said, laying down, curling up beside Dean.  
  
“Christ,” Dean muttered. “We could’ve just gotten a dog. They’re more fun.”  
  
Sam shrugged before yawning, shaking his head. “Out of everything in the pet store, he went to the bunnies. He knew what he wanted, Dean.”  
  
“I guess,” Dean said softly, turning to press his lips to Sam’s forehead. “He was okay.”  
  
Sam nodded. “He was okay. He was fine. We found him.”  
  
Dean yawned, giving Sam another kiss. “Sam, I was so scared,” he admitted quietly, looking up at Sam. “I mean…I know I love him, but I guess I didn’t really realize how much until I wasn’t sure he’d be coming home with us.”  
  
“I know,” Sam said, wetting his lips nervously. “I know. I thought-- you know what I thought.”  
  
Dean nodded and curled up to Sam, resting his head against Sam’s chest. “The Winchester bunny. Gus Winchester. I must admit, it’s a nice first pet.”  
  
Sam smiled. “I just can’t wait till he’s old enough to take care of it himself. Where’d he get Gus from anyway? Who do we know with the name Gus?”   
  
Dean shook his head. “I have no idea. It’s cute though.”  
  
“Danny and Cillian are going to freak,” Sam murmured, wrapping an arm around Dean, pulling him in.  
  
“I’ve decided that Danny is definitely on something,” Dean said. “I mean, the kid never cries. He’s always smiling. What’s up with that?”  
  
Sam smiled. “I don’t know. He’s just a happy kid.”  
  
“It’s weird, I tell ya,” Dean said, shifting on the bed. “It’s just weird.”  
  
“I love when Dylan smiles,” Sam said softly, trying to keep Dylan from rolling away from him. “He has the nicest smile.”  
  
Dean took a deep breath, thinking for a moment. He closed his eyes and settled in against Sam, before giving a small nod. “Yeah, he does.”  
  

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Title:** Look What Love Has Done - Volume 3 - Chapter 5  
**Pairing:** Sam/Dean  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine  
**Rating:** R this chapter  
**Summary:** It's Sam's birthday, and the events of the day all lead up to a revelation about Dylan.  
**Author's Note:** Forget volume one, forget volume two; this is volume three

 

**three years and twenty days old**  
  
Dean smiled and nuzzled Sam’s neck, before giving him a soft kiss. “You’re getting older every year, Sammy.”  
  
Sam smiled and his head lolled over to look at Dean. “I think everybody does, Dean.”  
  
“Shut up,” Dean murmured, moving his lips up to Sam’s jaw, kissing along the sharp edge before his lips moved up to Sam’s mouth. “It’s different. You’re my little brother.” He gave him another kiss. “My little brother’s not so little anymore.”  
  
Sam laughed softly and nodded before giving Dean one last kiss and sitting up. “Come on, we gotta go get Dylan up.”  
  
“I took today off for you,” Dean said softly, pressing a kiss to Sam’s shoulder, running his fingers over Sam’s chest.  
  
“You never work on Sundays,” Sam pointed out, laughing again. “Come on Dean, let’s get up. We’re awake. Dylan’s probably awake.”  
  
“He’s three, Sam,” Dean said, reaching up to brush Sam’s hair away from his face, “time for him to take care of himself. Fly the coop.” He nuzzled Sam’s skin, opening his mouth to lightly lick up any traces of sweat from the California heat. “I didn’t get you anything for your birthday, so you’ve gotta let me do this.”  
  
Sam sighed and rolled his eyes, throwing the sheets off him. He swung his legs off the bed and glanced back at Dean, going over to the dresser. “You’re taking me out for dinner.”  
  
“Well, I know that,” Dean said, “but I don’t know. I’m kind of in the ‘make love’ mood.”  
  
Sam smiled and pulled a pair of sweats on, grabbing a t-shirt. “‘Make love’ mood, huh?” He pulled his shirt over his head, fixing his hair quickly. “Wow, how romantic.”  
  
Dean studied Sam for a moment, biting the inside of his lip. “You look like a soccer mom.”  
  
“I am,” Sam said, scratching at a stain on his shirt. “Well, except for the soccer part. Oh well, soon enough I’m sure. Now are you getting up, or what?”  
  
Dean shrugged before shaking his head, dropping back down onto the bed. “Few more minutes. Get him up for me, will ya?”  
  
Sam nodded and walked out of the bedroom, yawning loudly as he walked down the hall, fingers drumming along the wall. He knocked once on the door before opening it slowly, a smile on his face. “Are you awake, Dylan?”  
  
Dylan threw off his covers and jumped off the bed, stumbling a bit as he ran over to Sam, reaching up to him.  
  
“Wow, that was quick,” Sam said, lifting Dylan up into his arms. “How long you been awake, Pickle?”  
  
“Awhile,” Dylan said, trying to wrap his arms around Sam’s neck.  
  
“Hungry?” Sam asked, walking over to get Dylan’s blankie, glancing down at Gus as he walked by. “How’s Gus today? Do you think he’s hungry?”  
  
Dylan nodded, grabbing his blankie off his bed. “Can I take him out?”  
  
“I want you to eat breakfast first,” Sam answered, smiling as Dylan tried to wrap himself up in his blankie, “then we can take him out. We’ll go outside, ‘kay? Take him in the backyard. It’s still cool enough.”  
  
Dylan nodded, curling up to Sam. “Where’s Daddy?”  
  
“Still in bed,” Sam said, smiling as they walked by the master bedroom, seeing Dean curled up in the bed through the door. “He’s sleepy. So what do you wanna eat for breakfast?”  
  
“Eggs,” Dylan said, holding his hands up to Sam.  
  
“I know Dylan, we’ll wash ‘em in a second, ‘kay?” Sam said, turning on the tap in the kitchen sink. “Get the soap, Dylan. The hand soap, remember.”  
  
Dylan reached out and pushed the pump down on the liquid soap, giggling when the soap came out. He put his hands together, squishing the soap around. He rubbed his hands together, yawning before sticking his hands under the water.  
  
“Are you tired, Dylan?” Sam asked, grabbing a dish towel for Dylan to dry his hands on. “Didn’t sleep well?”  
  
Dylan shook his head silently, drying his hands off.  
  
“Poor baby,” Sam said, pressing his lips to Dylan’s forehead. “You’ll sleep well at naptime then, right?”  
  
“Yeah,” Dylan nodded.  
  
Sam shifted and set Dylan down on the counter, going over to the refrigerator. “One egg, Dylan; how do you want Mommy to make it?”  
  
Dylan shook his head. “Yummy!”  
  
Sam laughed. “Well alright then, I can do that. Dean, are you eating?” he called, waiting for Dean’s reply. He rolled his eyes when all he got was a loud groan.  
  
“Daddy napping,” Dylan said, swinging his feet back and forth.  
  
“Yes, he is,” Sam said, setting the egg down. He lifted Dylan off the counter and set him on the floor. “Go get Daddy up. Go jump on the bed, Dylan.”  
  
Dylan squealed as he ran off, pushing the bedroom door open the rest of the way. “Daddy!” he screamed, jumping up and down. “Daddy!”  
  
Dean groaned again when he felt a dip in the mattress and tiny hands on his chest. “Dylan, Daddy’s sleeping right now.”  
  
Dylan crawled over Dean’s chest to sit on the pillow, legs by Dean’s head. “It’s breakfast time.”  
  
“Sam’ll make you breakfast,” Dean grumbled, trying to roll away from Dylan.  
  
“He’s making eggs,” Dylan said quietly, running his fingers through Dean’s hair. “Daddy?”  
  
Dean sighed and rolled back over, eyes flickering open to look up at Dylan. “Eggs, huh?”  
  
Dylan nodded. “Yeah.”  
  
Dean pushed himself up, rubbing at his eyes. “Alrighty, let’s go get some breakfast.”  
  
Dylan smiled and crawled back over Dean, holding onto the sheets as he dropped down to floor. He held his hand out to Dean, grasped onto a couple of Dean’s fingers when Dean dropped his feet onto the floor.  
  
“Feed Gus yet?” Dean asked, grabbing a t-shirt as they walked out of the room.  
  
“Later,” Dylan said, leading Dean into the kitchen.  
  
Dean smiled and let Dylan’s hand slip from his, walking up behind Sam, wrapping his arms around Sam’s waist. “Morning, sugar. What’s for breakfast?”  
  
“Eggs,” Dylan said again, tugging on Dean’s leg.  
  
“Right,” Dean said, crouching down to pick Dylan up. “You already told me that. I just forgot.” He carried Dylan over to the refrigerator, opening the door. “What are we going to give Gus?”  
  
Dylan shook his head. “I don’t know.”  
  
Dean kissed Dylan’s forehead and turned around, sitting him down at the table. “How about we eat first and figure it out later?”  
  
“Kay,” Dean nodded, wiggling on Dean’s lap. “Gon’ play outside,” he said, nodding earnestly.  
  
“Outside, huh?” Dean repeated, nodding slowly. “You wanna call Danny and Cillian? That’d be fun, huh?”  
  
Dylan sighed and shook his head, picking at his pyjama bottoms.  
  
“No?” Dean said in surprise. “Why? What’s going on?”  
  
“Danny think he’s too old to play with Cillian,” Sam said from the stove, glancing back.  
  
“Oh,” Dean said simply. “Okay. Well, you can call one of them over. Who do you wanna play with today?”  
  
Dylan shook his head, turning around on Dean’s lap. He pushed himself up and wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck, burying his face.  
  
“Dylan, are you okay?” Dean asked softly, rubbing Dylan’s back.  
  
Dylan shook his head and Dean could feel wetness start to spread on his skin; which reminded him that he still hadn’t put his shirt on. Dean shushed Dylan, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. “Don’t cry, Dylan, tell Daddy what’s wrong. Are you okay?”  
  
Sam swallowed hard and turned off the stove, walking over to Dean and Dylan. “Dylan, what’s wrong?”  
  
Dylan stayed silent except for his sniffles. “I don’t wanna eat,” he said finally, tears shining in his eyes and on his cheeks.  
  
Sam nodded. “Okay, you don’t have to eat now. Let’s go get dressed then, okay?” He leaned down and wiped the tears off Dylan’s cheeks.  
  
Dylan nodded and Dean stood up, holding Dylan up on his hip. “I’m tired.”  
  
Sam nodded, following Dean and Dylan down to Dylan’s bedroom. “You’ll feel better once you get some sleep, Dylan. Some fresh air; it’s nice out today.”  
  
Dean walked over to the dresser and pulled the middle drawer open, reaching down to grab a t-shirt and a pair of shorts. He tossed them over onto the bed then leaned down, letting Dylan out of his arms. “Out of the pyjamas, Dylan,” Dean said, reaching down to grasp the hem of Dylan’s top.  
  
Dylan yawned loudly as he raised his arms, giggling when his shirt got caught on his head.  
  
Dean smiled before kneeling down, pulling Dylan’s shirt off the rest of the way. “Bottoms Dylan.”  
  
Dylan pushed down his pyjama bottoms, reaching out for Dean when he stepped out of them. He smiled up at Dean, before reaching up for his shorts. “Please?” he said, holding them out to Dean. He leaned against Dean, stepping into his shorts, jumping up and down once they were on.  
  
Sam grabbed Dylan’s shirt and knelt down beside Dean and Dylan, pulling the shirt on over Dylan’s head. He wiped Dylan’s cheeks with his thumbs, giving him a quick kiss. “You and Daddy go get the food, and I’ll get Gus, ‘kay?”  
  
Dylan nodded eagerly before running out of the room and down the hall.  
  
Sam and Dean both straightened up, Dean giving Sam a quick smile before going after Dylan, trying to catch up with him. He opened up the rabbit cage and reached in, sliding one hand under Gus’s bottom and keeping the other hand on his chest. He lifted him out of the cage and shifted him, holding him to his chest, closing the cage quickly. “Just outside for a little, Gus,” he said softly, petting Gus. “Breakfast then outside.” He kissed the top of Gus’s head and smiled when he saw Dylan watching Dean cut the vegetables. “Ready for outside?”  
  
Dylan nodded and ran over to Sam, reaching up to pet Gus. “He’s hungry,” Dylan said, glancing back at Dean, who promptly handed him a carrot.  
  
 

*** * * ***

  
“What’s going on?” Dylan asked as they sat down at their small table, looking up at Dean.   
  
Dean smiled and glanced down at Dylan. “It’s Mommy’s birthday,” he said.  
  
“Mommy!” Dylan squealed, a huge grin on his face. “It’s your burfday?”  
  
Sam smiled, nodding. “Yep, it’s my birthday.”  
  
Dylan unwrapped his arm from around Dean’s neck and reached out to Sam. He climbed onto Sam’s lap and sat down, looking up at Sam. “Happy burfday, Mommy,” Dylan said, leaning up to give Sam a kiss.  
  
“Thank you, Dylan,” Sam said softly, brushing Dylan’s hair out of his eyes. He gave Dylan another kiss and his smile grew. “Our birthdays are close together, aren’t they?”  
  
Dylan nodded. “Mommy, I think I’m tired.”  
  
Sam pressed his lips to Dylan’s forehead, rubbing his back softly. “I know, Dylan. You didn’t sleep a lot last night, did you?”  
  
Dylan shook his head. “No.”  
  
“Didn’t get much of a nap today either,” Sam continued on, rocking Dylan back and forth gently. “Lots of sleep tonight though, right?”  
  
“Yeah,” Dylan said quietly.  
  
“I’m gonna go see if or food’s ready,” Dean said, pushing his chair back.   
  
“Dean, we just sat down,” Sam said, reaching out for him. “Give ‘em a second. They’ll call our number.”  
  
Dean rolled his eyes but sat back down anyway, reaching over to ruffle Dylan’s hair. He stuck his tongue out at Dylan and made a face.   
  
Dylan giggled and turned away from Dean, hiding his face in Sam’s chest.  
  
Sam wrapped his arm around Dylan, holding him close. “So, how old are you Dylan?” he asked, running his fingers through Dylan’s hair.  
  
“Three,” Dylan answered as he held up five fingers.  
  
Sam laughed and reached down, putting Dylan’s pinkie and thumb down. “Guess how old Mommy is.”   
  
Dylan thought for a moment, picking at a button on Sam’s shirt. “I don’t know. Eight?”  
  
“Way older,” Sam murmured, smiling at Dylan. “Eight plus…nineteen.”  
  
Dylan’s eyes widened and he glanced over at Dean. “What’s nineteen?”  
  
It was Dean’s turn to laugh and he shook his head. “God Dylan, you are quite the character. Nineteen is one less than twenty. You’ll be nineteen in sixteen years. Long time, huh?”  
  
Dylan nodded. He looked around the restaurant and rubbed his stomach, frowning. “I’m hungry.”  
  
“I’ll go see if the food’s ready now,” Dean smiled, pushing his chair back again. He walked up to the counter, drumming his fingers for a couple seconds before one of the cashiers finally looked at him. “Yeah, is it close yet?”  
  
The cashier nodded and glanced back into the kitchen. “A couple more minutes.”  
  
“Kay,” Dean nodded, turning around. He leaned against the counter, smiling at Sam and Dylan.  
  
Sam looked up and smiled back, before looking back down to Dylan.  
  
Dylan looked away from Sam, looking out the large window. “Mommy,” he said softly, reaching up to tug on Sam’s shirt.  
  
“Hmm?” Sam said, looking around to see where Dylan was looking. “What?”  
  
Dylan pointed out the window, where two men were walking quickly by, something in their hands, heading for the door.   
  
Sam frowned, watching the men closely as the first one reached the door, pulling it open. They stepped inside, and Sam finally saw what was in their hands. He turned to Dean, eyes wide. “Dean!”   
  
Dean straightened up and looked at Sam before looking at the door, noticing the guns in the men’s hands. His eyes darted over to Sam and Dylan, looking down at the floor.  
  
“Wallets now!” one of the men yelled, raising his gun.  
  
Sam reached down and patted his pocket, realizing he left his wallet at home.  
  
“Mommy?” Dylan said, trying to push himself up on Sam’s lap to get a better look at Dean. “What’s going on?”  
  
“Shh,” Sam said, looking back at Dean, who was handing over his wallet. “You have to be quiet, Dylan.”  
  
Dean swallowed hard and dropped his hand back down to his side, watching the gunman who took his wallet closely. He opened his mouth to speak but shut it again when he saw Sam shaking his head.  
  
“You gonna say something?” the guy asked, stepping closer to Dean.  
  
Dean shook his head, deciding now was not the time to play the hero.   
  
“Good,” the man said sharply, before looking back to where Dean was watching.   
  
Dean straightened up and pressed himself back against the counter, trying to gesture to Sam to get down on the floor.   
  
“Oh, so you’re gay?” the gunman asked, glancing back at Sam again.  
  
Dean thought for a moment, wondering how much it would hurt his chances of getting out the restaurant uninjured if he answered with a ‘yes’. “He’s my brother,” he said finally, looking the gunman in the eye.   
  
The man looked back at Dean, before swinging his arm, hitting Dean in the stomach.   
  
Dean gasped, the breath knocked out of him and dropped to his knees, clutching at his stomach.   
  
“Daddy!” Dylan cried, reaching his arms out.   
  
“Come on,” the other gunman said, trying to drag his partner away from Dean. “We didn’t come here to hurt anybody.”  
  
Tears stung Dean’s eyes and he shook his head. “He’s my brother. I’m not lying. Please.” He shook his head again in disbelief that he may be injured again for being with Sam.   
  
The first gunman shoved his partner off of him and knelt down, looking Dean in the eye. “Your kid?”  
  
Dean nodded slowly.  
  
The man stood up and gestured at Sam. “Bring the kid over here.”  
  
“Please, no,” Dean pleaded, looking over at Sam and Dylan. “He’s just a kid.”  
  
“Now!” the gunman yelled, waving his gun.  
  
“Come on, don’t do this,” his partner said, grabbing onto his arm. “We got the money, let’s just go. What’s gotten into you man?”  
  
Sam stood up, legs shaking, holding Dylan close to him. “Just be quiet, okay?” he whispered, looking at the gunmen.   
  
“Okay,” Dylan nodded.  
  
“Get on the floor,” the first gunman said, pointing his gun to the floor beside Dean.  
  
The second gunman rolled his eyes and he reached out, trying to snatch the gun away from his partner. “Stop it, okay? He’s just a kid.”  
  
Sam knelt down beside Dean, holding Dylan close to him. He let Dylan’s feet touch the floor and let him go, but held onto his hand.   
  
The first gunman cocked his gun and pointed it at Sam’s forehead. “Didn’t get a wallet from you.”  
  
Sam squeezed his eyes shut and held Dylan’s hand even tighter. “Didn’t-- didn’t bring one.”  
  
“Give me your wallet,” the man demanded, pressing the gun on Sam’s forehead.  
  
“He didn’t bring one,” Dean said, speaking up finally.   
  
“Shut up,” the gunman snapped, glancing back at his partner. “Give me your wallet, kid.”  
  
“He didn’t bring one,” Dean said again, glaring up at the man.  
  
The man moved his hand and the gun to press against Dean’s forehead instead. “Shut…up. Okay?”  
  
Tears sprung to Sam’s eyes and he pulled Dylan closer to him.   
  
“Please, don’t do this,” Dean pleaded softly, looking up at the man. “Please. Not now. Not with my son. Please. Don’t let him see this.”  
  
The gun went off, and Sam screamed loudly. “No!” he yelled, yanking Dylan towards him. He opened his eyes and looked at Dean slowly, realizing Dean was looking back.  
  
“Holy shit,” the gunman said breathlessly, stepping back from the gun, as it remained floating in midair. “Okay, I’m out. I’m done.” He ran past his partner and pushed the door open, followed by the other gunman.  
  
Dean looked at the gun, still floating, tears finally running down his cheeks. “Sammy?” he asked quietly.  
  
Sam shook his head,. “It’s not me.” He looked over at Dylan, who was watching the gun. It finally dawned on him “Dylan?” he asked, squeezing Dylan’s hand.  
  
Dylan snapped back to attention and looked at Sam. “Yeah?” he asked, as the gun clattered to the floor.  
  
Sam looked back at Dean, swallowing hard. “Dean,” he said in disbelief.  
  
Dean watched Dylan, eyes wide.   
  
 

*** * * ***

  
Dean sat down beside Sam on the floor, body still trembling. “You okay?”  
  
Sam nodded jerkily, staring at the floor. “He’s in his room.”  
  
Dean nodded, taking a deep breath. “But are you okay?”  
  
Sam turned slowly to face Dean, swallowing hard. “Maybe it wasn’t him,” he said quietly, voice sounding hopeful.  
  
“Yeah,” Dean breathed, looking away from Sam. “Maybe.”  
  
Sam dropped his head, closing his eyes. “It could’ve been me.” He opened his eyes but didn’t look back up at Dean. “Right? I mean…it could’ve been me.”  
  
“Sammy,” Dean said softly, reaching to Sam, who just jerked away from him. “I don’t think it was you.”  
  
Sam shook his head, running his fingers over the carpeted floor. “Neither do I.”  
  
“Are we going to talk about it?” Dean asked, bringing his legs up to his chest. “I mean, this is kind of big, Sam. Our son is-- well, he’s-- you know.”  
  
“A freak?” Sam murmured, eyes darting up to look at Dean.  
  
“No,” Dean said quickly. “He’s like you.”  
  
Sam rolled his eyes and brought his knees up to his chest too, resting his head on his knees. “Great.” He tilted his head and looked at Dean, watching him closely. “He’s just a little boy, Dean.”  
  
“I know,” Dean said quietly. “Maybe we should be talking to him about this. Let him know what’s going on.”  
  
Sam sniffled and shook his head. “I don’t wanna talk about this with him. I won’t.”  
  
“Sam, he deserves to know what the hell’s going on with him,” Dean said, straightening his legs back out.   
  
“He’s three, Dean,” Sam snapped. “Sometimes he can barely hold a conversation, let alone understand that he’s _not_ like every other boy and he can move things with his mind. I’m not willing to let him know that. Not yet. Not now.”  
  
“We’re not going to talk about it at all?” Dean asked.  
  
Sam pushed himself up, opening the bedroom door. “No, we’re not.”  
  
Dean sighed and waited for Sam to come back into the room. When he didn’t, Dean pushed himself up and grabbed his cell phone, going into the bathroom.   
  
“Dean?” John answered the phone.  
  
“Yeah,” Dean said softly, looking out the door for Sam.  
  
“Are you okay?” John asked.  
  
Dean sighed and shook his head. “No. Dad…it’s happened.”  
  
“What’s going on?” John asked, alarmed. “Dean, are you okay? Sam and Dylan? What’s going on?”  
  
“He’s just like his father,” Dean answered bitterly. There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line and Dean leaned against the counter. “You get it, huh?”  
  
“What happened?” John demanded.  
  
“We were out for supper,” Dean began, “for Sammy’s birthday. There were these guys, with guns…the gun started floating. It wasn’t Sam. And Dylan was watching it so closely.”  
  
“God,” John breathed. “Dean, I’m sorry. I am. How’s Sam dealing with it all?”  
  
“We’re not talking about Dylan,” Dean replied, crossing one arm across his chest. “He doesn’t want to.”  
  
John was silent for a moment, all Dean heard was his breathing. “What about Rosier and Shax?” he asked finally.  
  
“What?” Dean asked in disbelief. “Dad, you can’t be serious. I’m not telling him. I won’t. I can’t. How the hell am I supposed to even bring that up?”  
  
“Dean, you have to tell him,” John commanded. “He deserves to know. They both do.”  
  
Dean swallowed hard, tears stinging his eyes. “Dad, I can’t,” he said, voice breaking. “Okay? I can’t do it.”  
  
“Dean, I’m sorry,” John said softly, wishing he was in California right at that moment to help his sons figure out what to do. “I’m sorry. Is Dylan okay though?”  
  
Dean sniffled and nodded, wiping his eyes. “Yeah. He’s fine. In his room. I don’t know what’s going on. Apparently he’s not sleeping or something, and he started crying today because he didn’t wanna eat breakfast and then this. I don’t know. I guess I kinda-- I thought maybe Shax really was lying. I _really_ wanted him to be lying Dad. Why couldn’t he be lying?”  
  
“Are you talking to Dad?” Sam said, appearing at the doorway. He leaned against the doorway, eyes shining bright and bloodshot.  
  
“Yeah,” Dean answered, nodding. “It’s Sam, Dad, I’m gonna let you talk to him now.”  
  
“Okay,” John agreed. “Be good, Dean.”  
  
“You too, Dad,” Dean said, finally smiling. He handed the phone over to Sam as he brushed by him.  
  
“Hi, Dad,” Sam said softly, shifting against the doorframe.  
  
“Happy birthday, Sammy,” John said, a smile evident in his voice.   
  
“Thank you,” Sam smiled. “How are you doing?”   
  
“I’m good,” John replied. “Dean told me about today.”  
  
Sam swallowed hard, reaching up to wipe his eyes. “Yeah.” He sighed, shaking his head. “It sucks, Dad.”  
  
“I know, Sammy,” John said softly, “but it’ll be okay. It has to be. You can deal with this, Sam.”  
  
Sam nodded. “I know.”  
  
Dean pushed open the bedroom door and smiled down at Dylan, who was playing on the floor with his toys. “Hey, buddy. How’s it going?”  
  
Dylan looked up at Dean. “Hi.”  
  
Dean walked into the room and sat down beside Dylan, ruffling his hair. “You feeling okay?”  
  
Dylan nodded. “I think Mommy’s mad.”  
  
“Mommy’s not mad,” Dean said softly, shaking his head.   
  
Dylan pushed himself up and took the couple steps over to Dean, sitting down in his lap. “He seems mad.”  
  
“I know,” Dean said, kissing the top of Dylan’s head. “Mommy’s just a little upset after today. Tired. But he’s not mad, I promise.”  
  
“Kay,” Dylan nodded, snuggling against Dean’s chest.   
  
“Still tired, cowboy?” Dean asked, wrapping an arm around Dylan’s waist.  
  
Dylan nodded again, curling into Dean. “Yeah.”  
  
“Why don’t we get you ready for bed then?” Dean asked, grabbing onto Dylan before he stood up, holding Dylan up on his hip. “Wanna go to bed?”  
  
Dylan yawned and rubbed at his eyes, not answering Dean’s question.  
  
“Wanna say goodnight to Grampie first?” Dean asked, walking Dylan out of the room, down the hall. “Sam, is Dad still talking?”  
  
Sam walked out of the bathroom then the bedroom, nodding. “Dylan?”  
  
Dean nodded, walking over to Sam. He shifted Dylan in his arms and smiled when Sam pressed the phone up to Dylan’s ear. “Say hi, Dylan.”  
  
“Hi,” Dylan said quietly, rubbing his eyes again.   
  
“Hi, Dylan,” John said cheerfully. “How you doing, cowboy?”  
  
“Sleepy,” Dylan replied, squirming in Dean’s arms.  
  
“Well then I’ll let you go,” John said. “Goodnight, Dylan.”  
  
“Night,” Dylan said, turning away from the phone. He wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck, closing his eyes.   
  
“Bye Dad,” Sam said, before turning the phone off. “You going to bed Dylan?”   
  
Dylan nodded, settling into Dean’s arms.   
  
Dean began walking back to the bedroom, stopped by Sam’s hand on his arm. He turned back, looking up at Sam. “Yeah?”  
  
Sam just shook his head and smiled, leaning in to give Dean a quick kiss. “Let’s just go to bed.”  
  
 

*** * * ***

  
Sam jerked away when he heard Dylan crying. He froze for a moment before lifting his head, comforter coming up to his chin. “Dylan?” he asked, reaching out for his son.  
  
Dylan continued crying, grabbing onto Sam’s hand with both of his.  
  
“Sam?” Dean asked, stretching out under the sheets.  
  
Sam sat up and threw his sheets back, lifting Dylan up onto the bed with him. “What’s going on, Dylan? Are you okay?”  
  
“Dylan?” Dean asked, rolling over. “Dylan, what’s going on? What are you doing in here?”  
  
Sam pressed his lips to Dylan’s forehead, rubbing Dylan’s back. “Shh, Dylan, what’s going on? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”  
  
Dylan shook his head, curling up on Sam’s chest.   
  
“You’re not hurt?” Dean asked.  
  
Dylan shook his head again, the sobbing finally stopped.   
  
“Thank God,” Dean murmured, rubbing his eyes. “Dylan, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”  
  
“Probably nightmares,” Sam said quietly, looking over at Dean. “Scary men with guns can do that to a kid.”  
  
Dean leaned down and gave Dylan a kiss, running his fingers through his hair. “You can sleep with us, Dyl, okay? Won’t that be nice? In the big bed.”  
  
Dylan nodded and squirmed off of Sam’s lap, laying down in between Sam and Dean.  
  
Dean and Sam both rolled onto their sides, facing Dylan and each other; Dean’s hand on Dylan’s waist, Sam’s hand covering Dean’s. “Are you okay now?” Dean asked softly, moving his thumb to rub Dylan’s side comfortingly.  
  
Dylan nodded and shifted on the mattress, eyes closed.  
  
“Good,” Dean said, leaning down to give Dylan a kiss.   
  
Sam sighed and looked over at Dean, frowning.  
  
Dean just shook his head, before settling back into the bed, closing his eyes.  
  
 

*** * * ***

  
“I planted in the garden last week,” Dylan said, looking down at the ground in front of him as he walked.  
  
“Dylan, we don’t have a garden,” Dean pointed out, looking down at his son.  
  
“I know,” Dylan nodded before he stopped walking. “Something’s in my shoes.”  
  
“Is it your feet?” Dean smiled before he turned around, crouching down in front of Dylan.  
  
Dylan let go of Dean’s hand and sat down on the grass, kicking off one of his shoes.   
  
Dean picked up the shoe and examined it, before shaking it. “Little rock in this one,” Dean explained, slipping the shoe back on. “So where was this garden?”  
  
“Paula’s,” Dylan said, pushing himself back up. “With Cillian.”  
  
“Oh, okay,” Dean nodded, grasping onto Dylan’s hand. “What type of flower did you plant?”  
  
Dylan didn’t answer, just walked alongside Dean.  
  
“What’d you plant?” Dean asked, simplifying his question.  
  
“Flower,” Dylan answered. “Yellow.”  
  
Dean nodded. “Daddy doesn’t know a lot about flowers and stuff; we’ll ask Mommy what type of flowers are yellow.”   
  
Dylan stopped walking again and dropped his hand from Dean’s, to cover his mouth when he yawned loudly.  
  
“Tired, buddy?” Dean asked, sitting down on the grass.  
  
Dylan nodded and stumbled over to Dean, sitting down on his lap. “I’m still sleepy.”  
  
“Me and Mommy were talking about putting you to bed early tonight,” Dean said, running his fingers over Dylan’s back, shifting on the grass.   
  
Dylan shook his head. “I’m gonna sleep with you.”  
  
Dean sighed. “What happened last night Dylan?” he asked, pressing his lips to Dylan’s forehead. “Why’d you come and sleep with Mommy and Daddy?”  
  
“It was scary,” Dylan said, wiggling around on Dean’s lap.  
  
“You weren’t scared the night before,” Dean pointed out. “Were you scared of those men yesterday, Dylan?”  
  
Dylan shook his head and rubbed his eyes. “No.”  
  
“Are you sure?” Dean asked, rolling his shoulders.  
  
Dylan nodded. “Can I sleep with you?”  
  
Dean thought for a moment before nodding. “Of course.” He gave Dylan a kiss, holding him close. “Come on, we gotta get up and walk back.”  
  
Dylan crawled off Dean’s lap and waited for Dean to stand up, reaching his arms up.  
  
Dean smiled and reached down, lifting Dylan into his arms. “Come on, let’s get home. Mommy’s probably scared to death.”  
  
Dylan smiled, resting his head on Dean’s shoulder.  
  
 

*** * * ***

  
Sam fluffed the pillow and glanced over his shoulder at Dean, trying to get Dylan to stop crying.  
  
“Sam, I told him he could sleep with us,” Dean explained. “Come on.”  
  
Sam sighed and fixed the sheets, shaking his head. “He has to sleep by himself eventually, Dean.”  
  
Dean screeched and shook his head, grabbing onto Dean’s leg. “Daddy! You said I can sleep with you!”  
  
Dean crouched down and gave Dylan a kiss, ruffling his hair. “Dylan, just shh, okay? I know what I said, but Mommy says no.”  
  
“Come on, Dylan, time for bed,” Sam said, straightening up.  
  
Dylan shook his head and let go of Dean’s leg, running out of the bedroom.  
  
“Sammy, just let him sleep with us tonight,” Dean said, stepping in the doorway to keep Sam from going after Dylan. “Yeah?”  
  
“And then tomorrow he’s going to cry again when we tell him to sleep down here,” Sam pointed out, exasperated. “He needs rules, Dean.”  
  
“He’s three, Sam,” Dean reminded him, but he stepped out of Sam’s way anyway.  
  
Sam walked down the hallway and looked around, listening for Dylan’s crying. “Dylan, it’s time for bed. Come on, let’s go to sleep.”  
  
“I wanna sleep with you,” Dylan sobbed, walking over to Sam from the master bedroom.  
  
Sam nodded and crouched down in front of Dylan, wrapping his arms around him. “Why don’t you let Mommy sleep with you?” he asked, lifting Dylan up.  
  
Dylan sniffled and wiped at his eyes. “What do you mean?” he asked.  
  
“I want you to sleep in _your_ room Dylan,” Sam began, walking back down the hallway, “but me and Daddy can still sleep with you. In your room. Would that be okay?”  
  
Dylan nodded and rubbed at his eyes again. “Kay. But where will we all sleep?” he asked, raising his arms in question.  
  
Sam laughed. “You let me worry about that. You’re going to sleep in your bed, that’s all that’s important.”  
  
“What’s going on?” Dean asked, pushing himself off the wall.  
  
“We’re sleeping together,” Dylan said cheerfully, crawling onto [ his bed](http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u190/lwlhdcharacters/dylansbed.jpg) after Sam let him down.  
  
“Sam?” Dean asked. “What?”  
  
“We’re sleeping down here,” Sam explained, pulling Dylan’s sheets back. “Climb in, Dylan.”  
  
“Kay,” Dylan said, crawling up to the head of the bed, before sliding under the sheets. “Night.”  
  
Sam leaned down and gave Dylan a kiss. “Me and Daddy are gonna go get in our pyjamas, we’ll be right back.”  
  
Dylan nodded and rolled onto his side, curling up.  
  
“We’re sleeping down there?” Dean asked, following Sam down the hallway. “In what? His two-by-three bed? Um, no, we’re not.”  
  
Sam walked into the master bedroom, grabbing the down comforter. “Grab a couple pillows, will ya?”  
  
“We’re sleeping on the floor?” Dean asked in shock. “Sam! Ow!”  
  
“I’m sure one of us can fit in his bed,” Sam said, dragging the comforter out of the bedroom. “It holds up to like, two hundred and fifty pounds, and you know it’s bigger than two by three. You can sleep in it if you want.”  
  
“Christ,” Dean muttered, grabbing the pillows off the bed. “Sam, this is never going to work. I have to go to work tomorrow; I’m never going to get any sleep.”  
  
“Get over it,” Sam snapped. “I’d rather have Dylan sleeping than you.” He pushed Dylan’s door open the rest of the way and smiled at Dylan as he dragged the comforter in. “Getting cozy?”  
  
Dylan nodded sleepily and rubbed at his eyes, yawning quietly.  
  
Dean dropped the pillows down on the floor and helped Sam straighten out the comforter, dropping down onto the floor once it was good enough for him.   
  
Sam leaned down and gave Dylan another kiss, pulling his sheets up. “Goodnight.” He walked over to the doorway and flipped the light switch, managing to make it over to Dean without tripping on anything or anybody. He sat down carefully and curled up behind Dean, resting his hand on Dean’s stomach. “Goodnight, Dean.”  
  
“Whatever,” Dean muttered, glancing back at Sam. “Damn floor, digging into my hip.”  
  
Sam shushed Dean, nuzzling the back of his neck. “It’s for Dylan.”  
  
“Yeah yeah,” Dean said, settling back against Sam’s broad chest. “Everything’s always for Dylan.”  
  
Sam nodded. “That’s a good thing.” He closed his eyes and was eventually lulled to sleep by the sound of Dean’s breathing and the warmth of his body.   
  
Dylan screamed and both Sam and Dean jerked awake.  
  
“Sammy?” Dean mumbled, groaning when he remembered he was on the floor and his hip was digging into said floor.   
  
Sam blinked for a couple moments before lifting his head, realizing what had woke him up. “Dylan?” He turned and pushed himself up, getting on his knees, resting against the mattress.   
  
Dylan squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, clutching at his sheets. “Mommy,” he whimpered.  
  
“Shit,” Sam muttered, climbing up onto the bed, not caring whether it broke right then or not. “Dylan, it’s okay, I’m here,” he said quietly, wrapping his arms around Dylan.  
  
Dylan hiccupped from his sobs and buried his face in Sam’s chest. “Mommy,” he cried, shaking in Sam’s arms.  
  
“Shh, shh,” Sam said comfortingly, rocking Dylan back and forth. “Mommy’s here, I’m here Dylan, what’s wrong?”  
  
Dean’s eyes finally opened and he blinked a couple times as he looked up at the ceiling, not really sure what he was seeing. “Uh, Sam?” he asked, sitting up.  
  
Sam looked back at Dean before looking where Dean was looking, and his jaw dropped. “Holy shit,” he said slowly, watching the stuffed animals float in midair. He looked back at Dylan, giving him a kiss. “Whatever’s wrong, Dylan, we’re awake now and it won’t hurt you anymore.”  
  
Dylan sniffled and nodded, tiny fingers digging into Sam’s arm.  
  
“We’re going to protect you, Dylan,” Sam assured him, looking back at Dean.   
  
Dean nodded, finally standing up. He walked over to the other side of the bed, not sitting on it, just kneeling beside it. He reached out to Dylan, rubbing his back. “Dylan, we’re here. It’s okay. It’s gone. Whatever it was…it’s gone.”  
  
“It’s not,” Dylan said, shifting in Sam’s arms.  
  
“It’s still here?” Dean asked, alarmed. “What is it?” He straightened up, looking around.  
  
“Hit the lights,” Sam said, watching Dean look around the room, eyes wide.  
  
Dean walked over to the doorway and flipped the switch, flooding the room with light. He jumped slightly when Dylan’s stuffed animals fell to the floor and bed. Finally, it dawned on him. “Sam, he’s afraid of the dark.”  
  
Sam looked over at Dean, still rocking Dylan back and forth. “That’s it?” He reached up and rubbed one of his eyes, before looking down at Dylan. “Dylan, is that it?”  
  
Dylan nodded before he started crying again, tears staining his cheeks.  
  
Dean sighed and leaned against the doorframe, yawning loudly.  
  
 

*** * * ***

  
“That look good, Dylan?” Sam asked, glancing back at Dylan, who was watching from his bed.   
  
Dylan nodded, holding one of his stuffed toys to his chest. “The Pooh!” he said, pointing at his new [ nighlight](http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u190/lwlhdcharacters/nightlight.jpg).  
  
Sam grinned and walked over the to the bed, sitting down beside Dylan. “That’s right, that’s Winnie.”  
  
Dylan sighed and stepped off his bed, walking over to the wall. He pressed the dome on the nightlight, eyes opening wide when a faint light began shining.   
  
“Do you think that’s going to work?” Sam asked, shifting on the bed.  
  
Dylan nodded, walking back over to Sam.   
  
Sam swallowed hard and watched Dylan closely, taking a deep breath. “You know, Mommy’s afraid of the dark too,” he said finally.  
  
Dylan looked up at Sam. “Yeah? You are?”  
  
Sam nodded. “Yeah. When I was a kid, even older than you, it scared me a lot. Sometimes it still bothers me.”  
  
Dylan dropped his eyes, leaning against Sam.   
  
Sam looked up when he heard the front door open and he stood up. “Dylan, can Mommy go talk to Daddy for a second?”  
  
“Yeah,” Dylan said, walking back over to the night light.  
  
Sam walked out of the bedroom and down the hallway, going over to Dean.   
  
“Hey,” Dean said, toeing off his sneakers. “How’s it going?”  
  
“Nightlight works,” Sam told him.  
  
“Oh,” Dean said, nodding. “Good. He like it?”  
  
“Aren’t we going to talk about this?” Sam asked, stepping towards Dean.  
  
“You didn’t wanna talk about this two days ago,” Dean pointed out. “Why the sudden change?”  
  
Sam shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean…he makes things move with his mind.”  
  
“Only when he’s scared,” Dean pointed out, flopping down on the couch. “I don’t him see him getting robbed again and beside, we got him the nightlight.”  
  
“Dean!” Sam exclaimed. “Come on, that’s not going to work. He’s going to get scared again.”  
  
Dean thought for a moment. “Yeah but…by then, maybe he’ll be able to control it.”  
  
“I can’t believe this,” Sam muttered, shaking his head. “I can’t believe I thought he was going to be normal.”  
  
“He is,” Dean insisted. “You’re psychic, he’s all Carrie. _I’m_ the freak in this family.”  
  
“Good point,” Sam murmured, looking over at Dean as he sat down on the end of the couch. “What are we going to do?”  
  
Dean shrugged. “Um, raise him? Truth be told, if him being telekinetic or whatever is the worst thing that ever happens to him, that’s okay with me. Right?”  
  
Sam nodded. “Right. Good point.” He leaned up and gave Dean a quick kiss, shifting on the couch to rest his head on Dean’s chest.   
  
Dean took a deep breath and wrapped his arms around Sam’s shoulders, keeping him close. “I love you, Sammy.”  
  
Sam closed his eyes, yawning softly. “Love you too, you non-psychic freak.”  
  
Dean smiled and chuckled softly, nodding. “Yeah, but I’m _your_ non-psychic freak.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Sam’s head, running his fingers up and down Sam’s arm.  
  

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Title:** Look What Love Has Done - Volume 3 - Chapter 6  
**Pairing:** Sam/Dean  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine  
**Rating:** NC-17 this chapter  
**Summary:** Sam has a vision of Dean dying; they take care of Cillian for the night  
**Author's Note:** Forget volume one, forget volume two; this is volume three

 

**four years, three months and twenty-seven days old**  
  
 _Dean fell to the bed and blood gurgled out of his mouth when he tried to speak.  
  
Sam wiped Dean’s chin off and reached up wipe his tears off his cheeks, leaving blood on his face. “Dean, please, please Dean, you can’t do this. You can’t die on me.”_  
  
“Be good for Sam and Dean, Cillian,” Paula said, kissing Cillian and pulling him for a hug. She looked when she heard Sam groan loudly from the bedroom, and Dean’s eyes widened.  
  
“Is he okay?” Paula asked, standing up.  
  
Dean swallowed hard before nodding. “Sure. Probably just stubbed his toe.”  
  
Sam gasped loudly and clutched at his temples, trying not to cry out again.  
  
 _Dean’s head lolled over to one side and his eyes blinked weakly as he looked at Dylan. He tried to smile, lips and eyes twitching before he started coughing again._  
  
“We’ll be back in a couple days,” Michael said, shifting the baby in his arms to ruffle Cillian’s hair. “Gonna be good?”  
  
Cillian jumped up and down and nodded. “Yeah.”  
  
“Good,” Michael said, shifting the baby again. “Wanna say bye to your brother?” he asked, crouching down.  
  
Dean turned and crouched down beside Dylan, putting his mouth by Dylan’s ear. “Go check on Mommy,” he whispered, pulling back to look Dylan in the eyes.  
  
Dylan nodded and ran out of the kitchen and around the corner.  
  
“How is the little Albany?” Dean asked, standing back up. He smiled down at the baby, reaching down to let Albany’s tiny fingers wrap around one of his.  
  
“As perfect as Cillian,” Paula smiled, giving Cillian another kiss. “And my parents won’t shut up about us never visiting them.”  
  
“So why are leaving Cillian then?” Michael asked, turning to Paula.  
  
Dean chuckled at that and looked down when Dylan pulled on his jeans. He crouched down and asked softly, “What’s going on?”  
  
“He’s on the floor,” Dylan whispered back, looking up at Dean.  
  
“Okay,” Dean nodded, kissing Dylan’s forehead before standing up.  
  
“Everything okay?” Paula asked, looking worried.  
  
Dean nodded. “Don’t worry about it. Sam just needs something in the bedroom.”  
  
“Oh,” Paula smiled. “We’ll just get going then. If Cillian gets sick or something, we’re only a half hour away, one of us can just come and get him.”  
  
Dean nodded. “Don’t worry about it, we’ve got it under control. It’s only one night.”  
  
“So why are we leaving Cillian?” Michael asked, his finger taking Dean’s place in Albany’s grip.  
  
“Michael, let’s just get going,” Paula said, smiling down at Cillian. “Be a good boy for Mommy, Cill. Listen to what Sam and Dean say, okay?” She opened the door and stepped out into the porch, holding the door open for Michael.  
  
“Kay,” Cillian nodded. “Bye, Daddy.”  
  
“See ya later, Blue Eyes,” Michael smiled, stepping out of the kitchen. “Love ya.” He walked out of the doorway and let Paula close the door, who waved one last time.  
  
Dean smiled and looked down at Dylan and Cillian before walking away from the door. “Dylan, play with Cillian. I’m gonna go check on Mommy.” He rounded the corner and pushed open the master bedroom, stopping in his tracks when he saw Sam on the floor, curled up, palms pressed to his eyes. “Sam,” he said, going into the bedroom.  
  
 _Sam shook his head as more tears from his eyes, resting his head on Dean’s chest. “Don’t die, Dean, please. I can’t do this alone.”_  
  
“Sam!” Dean yelled, grasping onto Sam’s shoulders as he slid onto the floor.  
  
Sam gasped in pain and clutched at his head, tears filling his eyes. “Dean,” he gasped, looking up at Dean, vision still hazy in his mind.  
  
Dean shifted on the floor and wrapped his arms around Sam, pulling him in. “It’s okay, it’s over.”  
  
Sam sniffled and nodded, wiping at his eyes. “Fuck,” he muttered, pulling away from Dean.  
  
“Are you okay?” Dean asked, reaching out to swipe his thumb across Sam’s cheek, trying to wipe away his tears. “Was it a vision?”  
  
Sam nodded. “Ye-- yeah, I’m okay. And yeah, it was a vision.”  
  
“Of what?” Dean asked softly, shifting on the floor, legs crossed in front of him.  
  
Sam shook his head, taking a deep breath. “I’m not sure,” he replied quietly, looking over at Dean. He tried to smile before looking away, body still trembling.  
  
Dean frowned and wanted to push the topic, but decided not to. “What do you wanna do with Dylan and Cillian?” he asked gently, reaching out to run his fingers over Sam’s arm.  
  
Sam groaned, as if just remembering that Cillian was spending the night. “Right, Cillian,” he breathed. “Can you go keep them busy for a little bit? I’m gonna go find some Advil.”  
  
Dean nodded and pressed his lips to Sam’s forehead, holding him close for a moment before standing up. “Be right back.” He opened the bedroom door and walked out, going out to the living room.  
  
Sam sighed and rubbed at his eyes, before pushing himself up. He walked into the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet, grabbing the bottle of Advil. He swallowed hard and opened the bottle, dumping a couple onto his hand. He turned on the tap and stuck his hand under, cupping water in his hand.  
  
“Is Mommy okay?” Dylan asked, looking up at Dean.  
  
Dean nodded, ruffling Dylan’s hair. “Just a bit of a headache, Dyl, don’t worry about it.”  
  
“My mama’s a girl,” Cillian said, lifting up one of his legs.  
  
“Yes, your mama is a girl,” Dean said, looking over at Cillian, “but Dylan’s mama isn’t. You know that.”  
  
“Yeah,” Cillian breathed. He looked up at Dean, grinning. “Where’s my mama at?”  
  
Dean sat down on the floor, ruffling Cillian’s hair. “Your mommy and daddy are going to Montebello for the night, to visit your grandparents.”  
  
Cillian nodded and looked up when Sam walked out of the bedroom, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Hi.”  
  
“Hi,” Sam said cheerfully, even though his eyes were still shining and there was a sheen of sweat on his face. “How’re you doing, Cillian?”  
  
Cillian nodded again and giggled. “You okay?”  
  
Sam nodded. “I am okay. Headache. Dylan, are you and Cillian playing nicely?”  
  
“Yeah Mommy,” Dylan said, shifting on the floor. “Mommy, can we go to Cillian’s?”  
  
Sam frowned. “Cillian’s parents aren’t home, Dyl, that’s why he’s here. Why do you wanna go to Cillian’s house?”  
  
“Swim!” Dylan cried, a smile on his face. “Too warm.” He lifted his shirt off his stomach, trying to cool himself off.  
  
Sam looked over at Dean, who looked as unsure as him. “They didn’t leave us a key, Dyl.”  
  
“Okay,” Dylan said sadly, dropping his head.  
  
Dean sighed and looked around, looking out the living room window. “We can call Danny, see if you can swim in his pool.”  
  
Dylan reached over and wrapped his arm around Cillian’s shoulders, patting his arm. “Danny doesn’t like Cillian,” he said softly, looking over at Dean.  
  
“Oh, yeah,” Dean said softly, nodding his head. “Well, don’t feel too bad about it, Cillian.”  
  
Sam sighed and rubbed at his eyes as he pushed himself up on his knees. He looked around the room, eye finally landing on Dylan and Cillian. “You two tired?” he asked, shifting.  
  
Dean looked over at Sam. “You okay?” he mouthed.  
  
Sam shrugged before shaking his head. “No,” he mouthed back, looking away from Dean.  
  
Dean checked his watch, tongue coming out to wet his lips. “Cillian, you have a nap yet today?”  
  
Cillian nodded. “Yep.”  
  
“Yep,” Dean echoed, looking over at Sam helplessly. “Can you guys play alone in Dylan’s room for a couple minutes?”  
  
Dylan nodded and pushed himself up, holding his hand out for Cillian.  
  
“Thank you,” Dean said, reaching out for Dylan, pulling him in for a quick kiss. “And do not take that bunny out!” he called after them, who had already began off down the hallway. “Bedroom,” he said, going back over to the bedroom.  
  
Sam followed slowly behind Dean, closing the door once he was in the bedroom.  
  
“You look like hell, Sam,” Dean said, turning around to look at him before sitting down on the edge of the bed.  
  
Sam nodded, rubbing at his eyes. “Feel like it.”  
  
“Sam, tell me what the vision was,” Dean commanded gently, leaning back slightly on the bed.  
  
Sam shook his head. “I told you, I don’t know.”  
  
“You always know,” Dean pointed out. “I’m not asking for a time, date, place here, Sam. I’m just asking you to tell me what you saw.”  
  
Sam sniffled and began pacing back and forth, hand up by his mouth. “We were somewhere. Not here.”  
  
“A motel?” Dean asked, straightening back up.  
  
“Yeah, I think so,” Sam nodded. “We were-- we were in the motel and you were bleeding. All over the place. Coming out of your mouth. I wiped it off your chin.”  
  
Dean swallowed hard and reached up to wipe at his mouth, subconsciously feeling something drip down his chin.  
  
“I begged you not to leave me,” Sam continued. “Dylan was there. You tried to smile. More blood just came out.”  
  
“Christ, sounds like a Stephen King novel,” Dean murmured. “I was dying?”  
  
Sam nodded and walked over, sitting down beside Dean on the bed. “But I don’t know what it was.”  
  
“God,” Dean muttered. “That’s great.” He laid back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “Could it have been a demon?” he asked, lolling his head over to look at Sam.  
  
Sam shrugged. “Don’t know,” he breathed.  
  
Dean frowned and thought for a moment. “Maybe a vampire,” he suggested.  
  
“I don’t know!” Sam snapped, looking down at Dean. “I don’t know. There was just so much blood. I couldn’t see what it was from.” He bit his lip and took a deep breath, laying back beside Dean. “What are we going to do?”  
  
Dean shook his head. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “What the hell was Dylan doing there?”  
  
“I don’t want you to die, Dean,” Sam said, turning to face him.  
  
Dean rolled his eyes. “That’s great, Sam. You think dying is at the top of my list?”  
  
Sam sat up and stuck his thumb in his mouth, nibbling at the nail. “So we just don’t take any hunts for awhile. Till after Dylan’s older than he was in my vision.”  
  
Dean sat up and hunched over, hands folded on his lap. “Is there any way you can like…force yourself to have a vision?” he asked, looking over at Sam.  
  
“What?” Sam asked, hoping to hell he hadn’t heard Dean right.  
  
“Well I mean, if you could make yourself have a vision, we could see more of the situation,” Dean explained. “Right?”  
  
Sam groaned and pushed himself off the bed. “Dean, they’re getting worse. I hate going through them the first time. Why would I ever want to put a vision on TiVo so I could go through it all again?”  
  
“Sorry,” Dean muttered, dropping his head. “But Sam, you get the visions; I’m the one _dying_ in them. Forgive me if I want to know why.”  
  
Sam crossed his arms and shook his head. “Maybe it wasn’t even a hunt. Maybe you were just…shot. Or something.”  
  
“Great,” Dean breathed. “Sam, we need more to go on. We need something to go on. Now I’ve gotta walk around all day, trying to take care of _two_ kids, wondering if I’m going to get shot or hit by a car or attacked by a freakin’…Baba Yaba or something.”  
  
Finally, Sam cracked a smile and he had to look away from Dean, trying not to laugh. “It’s _Yaga_ , Dean.”  
  
Dean smiled weakly, nodding. “It is, isn’t it?” He sighed and stood up, walking over to Sam. “You’re gonna have to protect me this time, Sammy,” he said, wrapping his arms around Sam’s waist. “You good to go?”  
  
Sam nodded. “We need to find something for Dylan and Cillian to do; they’re going to drive each other insane before bedtime.”  
  
Dean nodded and shifted on his feet, resting his head against Sam’s back. “Walk?”  
  
Sam sighed. “Walk.”  
  
 

*** * * ***

  
Dean squeezed Cillian’s hand, trying to stop him from running ahead. “Dylan, tell Cillian what happens if he runs ahead.”  
  
“I don’t know,” Dylan said, looking down at the ground as he walked along with Sam. “We not in the grocery store.”  
  
Sam laughed softly. “Cillian, just stay with us, okay?”  
  
“Kay,” Cillian said, jumping up and down a couple times before continuing on walking. “I have a brother,” he said, looking up at Dean.  
  
“I know,” Dean nodded. “Albany. What’s his middle name, Cillian?”  
  
“His name’s Albany,” Cillian answered, reaching up to push his glasses up.  
  
“Albany Ryan, right?” Sam asked, glancing over at Dean.  
  
“Yeah,” Cillian nodded. “I’m Cillian Sage.”  
  
“What’s my name, Mommy?” Dylan asked, stumbling a bit when he brought his leg up to scratch at it.  
  
“Dylan John, after Grampie,” Sam answered. He stopped walking and knelt down, scratching Dylan’s leg for him. “Better?”  
  
Dylan nodded. “Thank you.”  
  
“You guys tired yet?” Dean asked, a dull ache in his ankle.   
  
“Nope!” Cillian and Dylan answered at the same time, Cillian looking up at Dean, Dylan looking at Sam.  
  
“Great,” Dean muttered, looking around. “Well do you wanna go to the park then or something?”  
  
“Yeah!” Cillian cried, trying to run ahead again.  
  
“What about you, Dylan?” Sam asked. “You wanna play in the park?”  
  
“I wanna stay with you,” Dylan replied, looking up at Sam. “Can I stay with you?”  
  
“Sure, baby,” Sam said quietly, ruffling Dylan’s hair.  
  
Dean looked both ways and led Cillian across the street quickly, Sam and Dylan following behind them. “Where you wanna go first, Cill?” Dean asked, leading Cillian over to the playground.   
  
“Swings,” Cillian said, letting go of Dean’s hand to walk over to the swing set.  
  
Sam led Dylan over to the benches, sitting down before lifting Dylan up onto his lap. “What’s going on, Pickle?” Sam asked, reaching up to fix Dylan’s hair.  
  
Dylan shook his head and laid his head on Sam’s chest, kicking his tiny feet. “Are you okay, Mommy?”  
  
“Yeah, of course,” Sam assured him. “Why?”  
  
“You were on the floor,” Dylan pointed out. “I saw you.”  
  
“You saw that, huh?” Sam asked softly, running his fingers over Dylan’s back. “Mommy’s fine, Dylan, I promise.”  
  
“Kay,” Dylan breathed, snuggling closer to Sam.  
  
“You wanna go play with Cillian and Daddy now?” Sam asked, looking over to the swing set.  
  
Dylan shook his head. “No, I wanna stay with you.”   
  
Sam pressed a kiss to the top of Dylan’s head, taking a deep breath. “Alright. We’ll have our own fun over here.” He wrapped one of his arms around Dylan and brought his other hand up slowly, before tickling Dylan’s neck, laughing as Dylan began to squirm.  
  
“Mommy!” Dylan cried, trying to wiggle away from Sam. He laughed loudly, trying to pull away from Sam’s hand. “Mama, stop.”  
  
Sam stopped and looked at Dylan. “You’re calling me mama again?”  
  
Dylan nodded. “Sometimes.”  
  
“Okay,” Sam said, kissing Dylan before he started tickling him again.   
  
“Mama!” Dylan screeched, before he began laughing again.  
  
 

*** * * ***

  
“Is it okay for you two to sleep together?” Dean asked, fixing Cillian’s pyjamas.  
  
Dylan nodded, looking over at Cillian. “Yeah.”  
  
“Gonna be good?” Sam asked, pulling the sheets up a bit on Dylan’s side. “‘Cause Daddy and I can turn on the baby monitor if you’re going to be bad.”  
  
“We’ll be good,” Dylan said. “Promise.”  
  
“Good boy,” Sam said, leaning down to give Dylan a kiss. He smiled and leaned over a bit more, pressing his lips to Cillian’s forehead. “That okay, Cillian?”  
  
Cillian nodded. “It’s okay.”  
  
“Okay,” Sam nodded, brushing Cillian’s hair off his forehead. “Want me to take your glasses?”  
  
Cillian reached up and took his glasses off, handing them to Sam.  
  
“Night, you guys,” Dean said, giving a small wave. “You know where to find us if you need us.” He smiled and reached down, turning Dylan’s nightlight on before leading Sam out of the bedroom. He let Sam walk by him before pulling the door closed almost all the way, turning back around.  
  
Sam yawned and stretched his arms out above his head, smiling when he felt Dean’s hand move along his skin. He sighed and pressed back against Dean’s hand, eyes closing.  
  
Dean laughed softly and wrapped his arms around Sam’s waist, tilting his head upwards to kiss Sam’s neck. “How you feeling?”  
  
“Good,” Sam breathed, lolling his head to one side, cracking his neck.  
  
“Headache gone?” Dean asked.  
  
Sam nodded and took a deep breath, leading Dean to the master bedroom. He walked in and waited until he heard the door close before turning around, pressing Dean up against the wood, cupping Dean’s cheeks, pulling him in for a kiss.   
  
Dean moaned softly into Sam’s mouth and brought one of his hands up, tugging on the ends of Sam’s hair. He smiled against Sam’s lips and tried to get Sam to walk backwards towards the bed, but Sam just pushed him back up against the door. “I like that,” he said quietly, pulling back to look Sam in the eyes.  
  
“Like what?” Sam asked, ducking his head to press kisses along Dean’s neck and jaw.  
  
“When you pushed me,” Dean replied, tongue coming out to wet his lips.  
  
Sam smiled and leaned down, pulling Dean in for another kiss. “You want me?” he asked breathlessly, moving one hand down Dean’s neck and side to grip at his hip.  
  
Dean nodded eagerly and spread his legs just a little, giving Sam room to get between them. “Yeah.”  
  
“You want me to fuck you?” Sam asked, moving his hand back to grip at Dean’s ass. He ducked his head again, this time to nip at Dean’s neck.  
  
“Against the door?” Dean asked hopefully, pushing his ass back into Sam’s hand.  
  
“Where else?” Sam smirked, using his hand to help Dean turn around, pressing Dean against the door.  
  
Dean leaned his head back against Sam’s broad chest and reached down, fumbling with the buttons on his jeans before finally getting them undone and shoving them down his thighs, along with his boxers. “Lube’s on the dresser, sweetheart.”  
  
Sam rolled his eyes and even though he wanted to stay as close to Dean as he could, he managed to peel his body away from Dean’s and stumble the few feet back over to the dresser, grabbing the lube. “You gonna manage to keep it quiet this time?”  
  
Dean gasped in shock and looked back at Sam. “I am _always_ quiet!” he exclaimed.  
  
Sam shook his head, putting his finger up to Dean’s lips. “Shh, _sweetheart_ ,” he smirked.  
  
Dean rolled his eyes and settled back against Sam, hands pressed to the door, fingers trying to curl into the wood.  
  
Sam opened the lube and got some slick on his fingers, not wasting any time, not teasing Dean at all, just slipping two in Dean right away.  
  
Dean gasped and groaned and threw his head back, hitting Sam’s chest. “Christ,” he muttered, breath shaky.  
  
Sam slipped a third in and Dean cried out, head falling forward to bang against the door. “Smooth,” Sam said softly, rubbing his other hand over Dean’s side.   
  
“Shut up,” Dean gritted, working his hips back against Sam’s hand and forward against the door, trying to get some relief for his aching dick. “Sam, would you just fuck me already?”  
  
Sam began laughing, even as he slicked himself up and began pressing into Dean. “Now shh, because the last thing we need is Dyl or Cillian opening the door right now.”  
  
Dean groaned and pushed his jeans down a little further, trying to spread his legs a bit more. “We’ve got at least three hundred and fifty pounds of man-meat against this door,” he began, pushing his hips back, taking more of Sam in, “they couldn’t open it if they tried.”  
  
Sam’s fingers dug into Dean’s hip as he began thrusting, nuzzling the back of Dean’s neck. “You seem pretty proud of that fact.”  
  
Dean grinned and sighed, leaning back against Sam’s chest, tilting his head up to kiss Sam’s chin. “Damn right,” he groaned.   
  
 

*** * * ***

  
Sam sighed and pushed himself up, reaching over to nightstand, knocking the alarm clock over before grabbing the phone.  
  
“What was that?” Dean asked, jerking awake.  
  
“Hello?” Sam asked, before yawning loudly.  
  
“I thought I did the time difference right,” John said. “What time is it there?”  
  
Sam groaned and dropped the phone onto the bed, reaching down to fumble for the clock. He lifted it up and blinked a couple times. “Seven thirty-three.” He yawned again. “Where are you?”  
  
“Vermont,” John replied.   
  
Sam groaned again as he stretched out on the bed, shaking his head. “I’m not driving to Vermont.”  
  
“I don’t need you to drive to Vermont,” John began.  
  
“Good,” Sam murmured, yawning loudly.  
  
“I need you to drive to Arizona,” John finished.  
  
“Dad!” Sam exclaimed. “God, come on.”  
  
“What’s going on?” Dean asked, propping himself up, looking down at Sam. “He okay?”  
  
“He wants us to drive to Arizona,” Sam said, taking the phone away from his mouth.  
  
“For what?” Dean asked.  
  
“For what?” Sam repeated to his father.  
  
“Strix,” John replied.  
  
“Strix,” Sam said, looking up at Dean.  
  
“You mean the nocturnal bird that feeds on human flesh and blood?” Dean asked as if reciting it from his father’s journal.  
  
Sam looked at Dean in surprise, before swallowing hard. “We can’t, Dad.”  
  
“It’s only a four hour drive boys,” John pointed out.  
  
“We can’t,” Sam said again. “I had a vision. I didn’t know what it was…till now. We can’t go.”  
  
John sighed. “So it’s a no?”  
  
“Give me the phone,” Dean said, grabbing it away from Sam. “Sammy’s freaking out about nothing, Dad. How many dead?”  
  
“Nine attacked, six dead,” John answered. “Locals think it’s a coyote or something.”  
  
“Great,” Dean muttered. “Which means some asshole redneck’s gonna go out when he’s drunk and try it shoot it.” He sighed, looking over at Sam. “Where exactly in Arizona?”  
  
Sam shook his head, sitting up. “Dean.”  
  
“Kingman,” John replied. “Four and a half hour drive.”  
  
“It’s not that far,” Dean said softly, reaching out to rub Sam’s shoulder. “And these things aren’t that hard to kill; me and Dad took out a bunch of them once when you were at Stanford.”  
  
“Dean, I just had a vision of you _dying_ ,” Sam reminded him, “and you want to go hunt the thing that’s obviously what’s going to attack you.”  
  
Dean shrugged. “Then you go. I’ll stay here, take care of Dylan…have you ever been on a hunt by yourself?”  
  
“Not really,” Sam murmured. “But I don’t really-- I mean, what is a strix?”  
  
“Dad, we’re going to call you back,” Dean said quickly, before taking the phone away from his ear, shutting it off. “Sam--”  
  
“You’re not going,” Sam interrupted, shaking his head. “I don’t care. I’ll go, I’ll do it. But you’re not.”  
  
Dean sighed. “You’ve never went on a hunt before alone, you just said so yourself.”  
  
Sam shrugged. “Well it’s not like I’ve never done the research by myself. I’ve just never gone out and done the _whole thing_ by myself. And if you and Dad can kill a whole nest of them, or whatever, I can handle one. Four hour drive. I spend maybe a day there, four hour drive back.”  
  
“What if you get hurt?” Dean asked softly. “You’ll be all alone.”  
  
Sam looked away from Dean, tongue coming out to wet his lips. “What is again?”  
  
“A _strix_ ,” Dean repeated, chuckling. “It’s like an owl. Except it eats people. They’re really witches, that transform into them.”   
  
“How do you kill it?” Sam asked, looking up at him.  
  
Dean clucked his tongue and made a jerking gesture with his fist. “Shotgun. Silver bullet will do.”  
  
Sam sighed, nodding his head slowly. “I think I can do it.”  
  
Dean smiled and wrapped his arm around Sam’s shoulders and pulled him in, kissing Sam’s temple. “I know you can. I mean hell, Dad and I took out a whole nest!”  
  
Sam nodded, turning his head to give Dean a kiss. “Call him back. Get him to give me directions. I’ll leave after Cillian does.”  
  
“Kay,” Dean nodded, reaching over to grab the phone.  
  
 

*** * * ***

  
“You scared?” Dean asked, tilting his head up towards Sam, whispering.  
  
Sam shrugged before nodding a couple times, looking at Dean. “I guess. I can do this though, right?”  
  
“Sure ya can,” Dean nodded, kissing the corner of Sam’s mouth before resting his head on Sam’s shoulder.   
  
“He knows something’s up,” Sam said quietly, nudging Dean.  
  
Dean looked over at Dylan, who was watching them from the floor. “He’s four, I don’t think he--”  
  
“Mommy?” Dylan asked, pushing himself up. “What’s goin’ on?”  
  
“Okay, maybe he’s smarter than I thought,” Dean murmured.  
  
Sam cleared his throat. “Mommy’s gonna away for a day or so, Dylan.”  
  
Dylan went into instant pout, walking over to the couch. “Why?”  
  
“Because there are people who need help, Dylan,” Sam explained. He reached down and lifted Dylan up into his arms, giving him a kiss. “I won’t be gone that long, you won’t even notice I’m gone.”  
  
“Can I go with you?” Dylan asked hopefully.  
  
Sam shook his head, cupping Dylan’s cheek. “No, Dylan. It’s grown-up work. Too dangerous for little boys like you.” He gave Dylan a quick kiss, smiling at him. “I’ll be home soon though, I promise.”  
  
“When are you leaving?” Dylan asked.  
  
“Later on today,” Sam said quietly, playing with the ends of Dylan’s hair. “I was just waiting for Cillian to leave before I did.”  
  
Dylan sighed and leaned against Sam’s chest, thinking for a moment. “I don’t want you to go, Mommy,” he said finally, looking up at him.  
  
Dean cleared his throat and shifted on the couch, looking at Dylan. “Dylan, you know how sometimes all three of us go, or maybe I just go, and you stay in the motel room with Mommy and it’s our job to help people?”  
  
Dylan nodded. “Yeah.”  
  
“Mommy’s going on his own this time,” Dean continued, nodding slowly. “Because it’s Mommy’s turn to help people.” He took a deep breath and looked over at Sam, who was watching him closely. “Dylan, do you know what it means when people…die?”  
  
“Dean!” Sam exclaimed, almost lifting his hands to cover Dylan’s ears.  
  
Dylan looked up at Sam before looking back at Dean, shaking his head. “What’s that?”  
  
“It’s when…it’s when people go away,” Dean said, trying to be gentle with it.   
  
“Grampie goes away,” Dylan said, looking up at Dean. “Like that?”  
  
“Grampie comes back,” Dean said gently. “When people die, they go away forever, and they never come back.”  
  
“Do you see them again?” Dylan asked.  
  
Dean shook his head, before he stopped and started nodding. “Not until you go away forever too.”  
  
“Is Mommy coming back?” Dylan asked. He looked over at Sam. “Are you coming back?”  
  
“Always,” Sam smiled, giving Dylan another kiss. “You can count on it.”  
  
“But Mommy’s going to Arizona for a little bit so that nobody else goes away forever,” Dean finished. “Do you get it now?”  
  
Dylan nodded. “I think. But Mama’s coming back?”  
  
“Yes,” Sam assured him. “I am. Now, is there anything you wanna do before Mommy has to go? I can stay for awhile.”  
  
“Can we…” Dylan trailed off and he thought for a moment. “I don’t know. What do you wanna do?”  
  
Sam and Dean both grinned and Sam stood up, lifting Dylan into his arms. “Let’s go outside, in the backyard, and play some soccer,” Sam said, walking out of the living room.  
  
“Yes!” Dylan cheered, wrapping his arms around Sam’s neck.   
  
 

*** * * ***

  
“You sure you wanna leave now?” Dean asked quietly, handing Sam his bag before taking a sleeping Dylan out of Sam’s arms. “It’s late.”  
  
“But it’s still light out,” Sam pointed out, closing the car door slowly. “It’s only four hours away. I’ll sleep tonight, and hunt tomorrow I guess.”  
  
“Got everything?” Dean asked, kissing Dylan’s head when he stirred in his arms.  
  
Sam looked around, nodding. “Yeah, I think so.”  
  
Dean smiled quickly before nodding also, tongue coming out to wet his lips. “So…I guess you should get going then.”  
  
“Guess so,” Sam agreed, leaning down to give Dean a kiss.  
  
Dean shifted Dylan in his arms, tongue coming out to play at Sam’s lips.  
  
Sam sighed into the kiss and brought his hands up, cupping Dean’s cheeks gently, trying to keep the kiss soft, sweet. “I’ll miss you,” he breathed, breaking apart for only a moment.  
  
Dean nodded, shifting Dylan, trying to keep the kiss going. Their lips met again and Dean moaned softly, before the kiss broke again. “Be safe.”  
  
“Always,” Sam said, kissing him again. “I should really go.” He stepped back, bumping into the car. He looked back in surprise, thinking for a moment. “Wait. How are you supposed to get around without the car?”  
  
Dean shrugged. “I don’t know. Cab, walk, whatever. Just go, Sam. It’ll be okay.”  
  
Sam smiled weakly. “Promise?”  
  
Dean nodded. “I promise. Now go. I want you to get there before you get too tired. You crash my car, I don’t care if you’re already dead, I’ll kill ya.”  
  
Sam smiled and leaned down, giving Dylan a kiss. “When he wakes up…”  
  
Dean nodded again. “Every five minutes. Don’t worry. You’re gonna be back to tell him yourself anyway.”  
  
“Yeah,” Sam said, reaching back for the door handle. “Just-- just take care of him.” He climbed into the car, looking up at Dean. “Yeah?”  
  
Dean smiled and closed the door, leaning down to look at Sam in the window. “Sam, he’s my kid too. Now come on, quit stalling and get going.”  
  
Sam nodded and turned on the ignition, glancing up to hope it didn’t wake Dylan. “Bye.”  
  
Dean smiled and hit the roof a couple times, stepping back for Sam to pull out of the driveway. He looked down when Dylan began to stir in his arms and he shushed Dylan, walking up the driveway back into the house. “Let’s get ya to bed, Dylan,” he said softly, holding Dylan a little tighter.  
  

 


	7. Chapter 7

Title: Look What Love Has Done - Volume 3 - Chapter 7r32;Pairing: Sam/Deanr32;Disclaimer: Not miner32;Rating: PG-13 this chapterr32;Summary: Dylan starts school; Sam looks for a jobr32;Author's Note: Forget volume one, forget volume two; this is volume three

five years, four months and twenty days old

 

Dean hopped out of the bedroom, trying to pull on his jeans as he went along. “You didn’t wake me up!” he yelled to Sam, not really sure where in the house his brother was.

 

Sam looked up when he heard Dean, frowning. “I tried!” he yelled back, pulling Dylan’s shirt over his head. “That okay?” he asked Dylan, running his fingers through Dylan’s newly short hair.

 

Dylan looked down at his shirt and nodded, reaching up to try and mess up his hair. “I don’t like my hair, Mommy.”

 

“We weren’t letting you start school with that long hair, Dylan,” Sam explained, pushing himself up. 

 

“You did not try!” Dean yelled, coming down the hallway, pulling his shirt over his head. “You let me sleep in and now I’m gonna be late for work!”

 

Sam groaned and turned around, crossing his arms. “No, an hour ago I tried to wake you up. I told you if you didn’t get up soon, you’d be late. You didn’t get up soon and now you’re late! Not my problem!”

 

“Call Bob!” Dean screamed, running back up the hallway. 

 

“Why?” Sam screamed back.

 

“To tell him I’m going to be late, you idiot!” Dean yelled back. “I have to eat breakfast!”

 

“Call him yourself, you idiot,” Sam muttered, grasping onto Dylan’s hand, walking him down the hallway. “Come on, Dylan, Paula’s gonna be here soon.”

 

“Paula?” Dean repeated, looking up from the fridge. “Where are you going?”

 

“Clothes shopping,” Sam answered. 

 

“Did you tell me that?” Dean asked, grabbing the loaf of bread.

 

“Yes,” Sam said, annoyed. “I told you, you told me you had to work, so I asked Paula and Albany to come with us.”

 

Dean thought for a moment. “I don’t remember that.”

 

“Of course not,” Sam said, rolling his eyes.

 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Dean demanded, looking over at Sam.

 

“You don’t listen,” Sam answered, “that’s what that means. Come on, Dylan, get your shoes on.”

 

“Sorry, Mommy,” Dylan said quietly, slipping his feet into his sneakers. “Can you tie them?”

 

“Sure thing, Dyl,” Sam said, crouching down in front of Dylan. He tied them quickly, standing up again. “Are you ready? Do you have to use the bathroom?”

 

Dylan shook his head.

 

“We’ll wait outside then,” Sam said, ushering Dylan past Dylan to the porch door.

 

“I’ll see ya when I get home from work, Dylan,” Dean said, throwing some cheese and leftover ham on his the bread. “Be good, kay?”

 

“Kay,” Dylan nodded, waving to his father. “Bye Daddy!”

 

“See ya, Sam,” Dean said softly, glancing back at him.

 

Sam tried to flash a quick smile, but it came off looking completely forced. “Later.” He opened the porch door and led Dylan out, reaching ahead of him to push the door outside open, helping Dylan down the stairs. 

 

“Mommy?” Dylan asked, looking up at Sam.

 

“Yeah?” Sam asked, leaving Dylan on the stairs, pacing around the driveway.

 

Dylan watched Sam, before shaking his head. “Never mind.”

 

Sam sighed and stopped walking, sitting down on the steps beside Dylan. “Me and Daddy fight a lot, huh?”

 

Dylan nodded. “I think so.”

 

“Sorry,” Sam said quietly, wrapping an arm around Dylan’s shoulders. 

 

Dylan shrugged and looked up when a car pulled into their driveway. “Paula’s here,” he said, standing up.

 

Sam moved to stand up, but stopped when he heard banging around in the porch, before the door opened, Dean coming out quickly.

 

“No, no!” Dean yelled, looking at Paula. “Can you pull out?”

 

Paula turned off the ignition and opened the door, just enough to stick her head out. “What?”

 

“I gotta get out,” Dean explained. “I’m already late for work.”

 

Sam snorted and rolled his eyes, walking over to Paula’s car. “You can’t wait one minute?” he asked, opening the back door up for Dylan.

 

“No, I can’t,” Dean snapped, walking over to Sam.

 

“Get in the car,” Sam said, lifting Dylan up into the car. “You know how to buckle it, right Dylan?”

 

Dylan nodded and buckled himself into the booster seat, smiling up at Sam. “Is that right?”

 

Sam checked Dylan over quickly, before smiling down at Dylan. “Looks great.”

 

“Paula, can you just pull out for a quick sec?” Dean asked, coming up behind Sam.

 

Sam closed Dylan’s door and turned around. “You know, if you just got in your car and let us leave, we’d be out a lot quicker.”

 

“Paula?” Dean asked, ignoring Sam.

 

Sam shoved Dean a little, before walking by him. “Get in the car, Dean. We’re pulling out, right now.” He walked to the passenger side of the car and managed to open the door before Dean said something.

 

“Did you just shove me?” Dean demanded, walking over to Sam.

 

“Dean, you’re late,” Sam reminded him. “Get in your car, and drive away. We’re leaving.”

 

“Don’t shove me,” Dean snapped, shoving Sam back into the car.

 

“Christ,” Sam muttered, rubbing his side. “Dean, go. We’re leaving. You’re late for work.” He climbed into the car and pulled the door closed before Dean could say anything again.

 

“Is everything okay?” Paula asked quietly, before turning the ignition on again.

 

Sam sighed and shook his head, rubbing at his eyes. “I’m not sure.”

 

Paula sighed, glancing in the rear view mirror at Dylan and Albany. “How you doing, Dylan?” 

 

“Good,” Dylan said quietly, looking out the window, waving at Dean. “Bye Daddy!” he called, wiggling in his booster seat.

 

Sam glanced back at Dylan, nibbling on his thumb nail. “It’s just a bump, I’m sure we’re gonna be fine,” he told Paula, flashing a quick smile at her.

 

Paula looked both ways before pulling out of the driveway. “You should try couples counseling, or therapy.”

 

Sam shook his head. “I already see a therapist,” he said, “and Dean’s free to go whenever he wants.” He glanced out the back window when he heard the Impala squealing out of the driveway behind them. “How do people know when they’re going to--” he looked at Dylan, who was watching Albany intently, “b-r-e-a-k u-p,” he spelled out. 

 

“You think it’s come to that?” Paula asked in surprise.

 

Sam shrugged and shook his head. “I don’t know. No, not yet. Definitely not yet.”

 

“Hi,” Dylan said quietly, reaching out to Albany.

 

Albany giggled and grasped onto Dylan’s fingers, flapping his arm. 

 

Sam looked back at Dylan and Albany and smiled. “I-- I don’t wanna talk about it, I guess. I don’t want to upset Dylan.”

 

Dylan giggled with Albany, picking up Albany’s rattle. “Mommy?” Dylan asked, looking to the front of the car.

 

“Yeah, Dylan?” Sam asked, looking back.

 

“Is Albany a baby?” Dylan asked.

 

Sam thought for a moment. “Yeah, I guess he’d still be considered a baby. How old is he, Paula?”

 

“Ten months,” Paula answered.

 

“Yeah, Albany’s a baby,” Sam said, looking back at Dylan again. “Why?”

 

“Can we have a baby?” Dylan asked.

 

Sam and Paula both smiled, and Sam shook his head. “I think you might be it, Dylan. Why, you like babies?”

 

Dylan nodded. “Yeah. Where do you get them?”

 

Sam began laughing softly and he shook his head again. “Where do you think babies come from, Dylan?”

 

“The mommy’s belly,” Dylan answered, rubbing his stomach.

 

“Yep,” Sam nodded. “That’s about it.”

 

“You excited for shopping today, Dylan?” Paula asked, glancing in the rear view mirror. “And I forgot to tell you, I like your haircut, Dylan.”

 

Dylan’s face scrunched up and he shook his head. “I don’t.”

 

Paula smiled. “Oh well. I think you look very handsome.”

 

Dylan shook his head again. “No.”

 

“Dylan, what do you say?” Sam asked, shifting in his seat.

 

Dylan frowned as he looked up at Sam. “Thank you, Paula.”

 

Sam grinned. “Good boy.”

 

* * * *

 

“And we got this!” Dylan said, showing Dean the Superman shirt. “Isn’t it cool?”

 

“It is,” Dean nodded, taking the shirt from Dylan. “Wow, very nice.”

 

Dylan grinned and reached down, grabbing something else. “And these.”

 

Dean set the t-shirt down and took the small sneaker, examining it. “These are very awesome, Dylan. Who picked them out, you or Mommy?”

 

“Mommy,” Dylan replied. “And we got these too,” he said, grabbing another shoe. “How many more days?”

 

“Four,” Dean said, reaching down to run his fingers through Dylan’s hair. “Don’t wish it away though, Dylan. Once you start school you’re stuck for thirteen years.”

 

“At least,” Sam pointed out. “Then you could spend like, another ten in college or something.”

 

Dylan frowned. “ Is school fun?”

 

“Dylan, Mommy and me took you to the school a couple days ago, we showed you what you were going to be doing,” Dean reminded him gently. “For awhile it’s just reading and math and printing. And how many of those things can you already do?”

 

“Two!” Dylan exclaimed happily. 

 

“That’s right,” Dean said, giving Dylan a high five. “Alright, so what time is it?” He held his wrist down so Dylan could look at his watch.

 

Dylan sighed and studied the watch face, cocking his head to the side. “I don’t know.”

 

“It’s time for us to start getting you ready for bed,” Dean told him. “Or eight-fifteen.” He stood up and reached down, grabbing some of Dylan’s new clothes. “Come on, Dylan, let’s go put this stuff away.”

 

Dylan grabbed as much as his little arms could hold and left the rest for Sam, who followed behind Dean and Dylan. 

 

“What are we going to read tonight, Dylan?” Dean asked, helping Dylan pull open a drawer on his dresser. “Did you and Mommy pick up any new books today?” He glanced back at Sam, who shook his head. “Okay, so are we just gonna keep on with The Wonderful Wizard of Oz or do you not like that?”

 

“It’s okay,” Dylan said, shoving his shirts into the drawer, not caring whether they wrinkled or not. 

 

“If we finish the book we can watch the movie,” Dean grinned, closing the drawer. “Won’t that be fun?”

 

Dylan shrugged and walked over to his bed, grabbing his pyjamas. “I’m gonna go brush my teeth,” he said, walking past Sam and Dean, leaving his bedroom.

 

Sam and Dean both looked at each other, trying not to laugh. “Is it just me,” Sam began, “or is he maturing too fast?”

 

Dean glanced down the hall to watch Dylan walking by himself, pyjamas hanging from one arm. “At least he hasn’t tried the whole running away to join the circus thing yet. I might get to avoid that whole debacle this time around.” 

 

“What do you mean?” Sam asked as they began to walk down the hallway together.

 

Dean smiled and shook his head. “You don’t remember? You tried at least three times. Me or Dad would wake up, and you’d be gone.”

 

“Where was I?” Sam asked, crossing through the living room.

 

“Making your way, pretty slowly, out of the motel parking lot,” Dean answered, smiling at Sam. “We’d snatch you up, take you back to bed.”

 

Sam walked into the bathroom, smiling at the image. “You got it, Dylan?” he asked, sitting down on the edge of the bathtub.

 

Dylan nodded before he spat into the sink, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

 

“Need help getting into your pyjamas, buddy?” Dean asked, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. 

 

Dylan shook his head before stepped down the small steps helping him up to the sink and he pulled off his t-shirt, grabbing him pyjama top. “I’m good.”

 

Sam laughed softly and reached out, helping the shirt over Dylan’s head. 

 

“Thanks, Mommy,” Dylan said, pushing down his shorts. “I already peed,” he announced, looking up at Dean, then looking over at Sam.

 

Dean and Sam both chuckled and watched Dylan hop up and down a couple times to pull on his pyjama bottoms. “Well, good for you, Dylan,” Dean said, straightening up. When Dylan was dressed he grasped onto Dylan’s hand and began leading him back down to his bedroom.

 

Sam tossed Dylan’s clothes in the laundry, too tired to actually put them away. He followed behind Dean and Dylan, yawning softly as he walked down the dark hallway into Dylan’s bright room. “Who’s reading?” he asked, going over to the bookshelf.

 

“I wanna try,” Dylan said, climbing up onto his bed. “Can I?”

 

“Of course,” Sam said, handing the book over to Dean, who handed it over to Dylan. “Do you remember where we ended?”

 

“Chapter one,” Dylan said, swiping his hand over the pages, trying to find a page that didn’t look familiar. “Here?”

 

Dean scanned the page quickly as he sat down on the bed, wrapping an arm around Dylan. “Yeah, there. You ready?”

 

Dylan nodded and studied the first word for a moment. “Sea-- she was a…wahckned--”

 

“Awakened,” Dean correctly gently, running his fingers through Dylan’s hair.

 

“By a shock, so sue den…” Dylan trailed off and he stared at the page. “I don’t know it,” he admitted finally.

 

“Sudden,” Dean said. “It’s okay Dylan, just keep going.”

 

Sam shifted on the foot of the bed, closing his eyes, just letting Dean and Dylan’s voices go over him.

 

“Sudden and see vere ee,” Dylan said slowly, looking up at Dean.

 

“Severe,” Dean told him.

 

“That if…Dorothy?” Dylan looked up at Dean, tiny finger pointing to the word on the page. “Dorothy?”

 

“Yeah, Dorothy,” Dean nodded. “She’s the main character.”

 

“Had not been l-why-in’ on the soft bed,” Dylan read, “she m-- might hey-v been her-- hurt.” He looked up at Dean again, waiting for the corrections.

 

Dean cleared his throat and looked down at the page. “Had not been lying on the soft bed, she might have been hurt.”

 

“Ass it way-as, the jay-are mad her catch her breathe and wonder what had hap-- happened.” Dylan frowned and closed the book, curling up into Dean. “I can’t do it,” he whined, clutching at Dean’s chest.

 

Sam opened his eyes and sat up, looking at Dylan sadly. “Dylan, you were doing great. You know how many people your age couldn’t even read that?”

 

“Yeah Dylan, you’re a great reader, you just gotta give yourself a chance,” Dean assured him. “Why don’t you just let me read it to you tonight, okay?”

 

Dylan nodded sadly and handed Dean the book, letting him find the page. 

 

“Alright, where were we?” Dean murmured, flipping through the pages. “Okay. As it was, the jar made her catch her breath and wonder what had happened; and Toto put his cold little nose into her face and whined dismally.”

 

Dylan sighed and rolled onto his side, lying his head down on his pillow. 

 

Dean smiled and leaned down, pressing his lips to Dylan’s cheek. “Dorothy sat up and noticed that the house was not moving; nor was it dark, for the bright sunshine came in at the window, flooding the little room. She sprang from her bed and with Toto at her heels ran and opened the door.”

 

“Whose Toto?” Dylan asked quietly, not even opening his eyes. 

 

“Dorothy’s dog,” Sam said, curling his legs up under him. 

 

“Oh,” Dylan said, nodding into his pillow. “I’m sleepy,” he murmured, rolling onto his other side.

 

“You want me and Mommy to leave?” Dean asked, leaning down to Dylan.

 

Dylan nodded. “Yeah.”

 

“Okay,” Dean nodded, giving Dylan another kiss. “Get a good night’s sleep, buddy.”

 

Sam climbed off the bed and walked up to Dylan, giving him a kiss. “Good night.”

 

Dean set the book on the nightstand and turned on Dylan’s nightlight before Sam flicked off the lights. Dean sighed and closed the bedroom door, walking down the hallway. “Sam, we need to talk.”

 

“About what?” Sam asked, going over to the couch. 

 

“About…Bob,” Dean said, taking the seat beside Sam. 

 

Sam rolled his eyes and leaned back against the couch, letting his eyes drift closed.

 

“He wants to sell me half the store.”

 

Sam shot up, eyes opening, looking at Dean. “Seriously?”

 

Dean nodded. “His girlfriend got on him about spending too much time there. He said with all the responsibilities, he has to be there. So, I guess he decided to try and split the responsibilities.”

 

“With you?” Sam asked.

 

“Well, I’ve worked there for more than five years, Sam,” Dean pointed out, “it makes sense.”

 

“Well…what did you tell him?” Sam asked.

 

Dean shrugged. “I told him I’d talk to you. Of course, after this morning I was ready to just do it anyway but I decided that that wasn’t fair. So, what do you think?”

 

Sam took a deep breath and sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t know. I mean…wow. Half the store means like, half the profits, right?”

 

Dean nodded. “I’d have to spend more time there though. At least for awhile.”

 

Sam thought for a moment. “Do we have enough money to buy half of the store?”

 

“I think so, yeah,” Dean nodded. “I mean, we won’t be going into debt, but we won’t be vacationing in the Hamptons for awhile either.”

 

Sam smiled and shifted on the couch, elbow propped up on the back, leaning against it. “Is this…I mean, is this something that you want?”

 

“Yeah, I think it is,” Dean nodded. “Working there is great, but I think it’d be more rewarding for me if I had some part in it. Does that make sense?”

 

“So do it,” Sam said. “Call Bob and tell him you want to buy half the store. I think it’s a great idea. I mean…yeah, it’s a great idea.”

 

“It’s just for awhile though,” Dean said again. “Once I get settled into it and everything, I might get to work even less.” He smiled, reaching out to rest his hand on Sam’s knee. “So Sammy, you wanna own a CD store?”

 

Sam smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I do. I think it’s awesome. Go call Bob.”

 

Dean’s smile turned to a grin and he jumped off the couch, going for the phone.

 

* * * *

 

Dylan sobbed and shook his head, clutching to Sam. “I don’t wanna go, Mommy!” he cried, shaking his head again. “Mo--” he hiccuped, “Mommy, don’t make me!”

 

“Dylan, it’s just for awhile,” Sam said gently, rocking him back and forth. “A few hours here then Mommy’ll be back to pick you up.”

 

Dylan shook his head. “Do I have to come back tomorrow?”

 

Sam nodded. “Yeah. And then Friday too. But you get weekends off.”

 

Dylan began crying harder, fingers digging into Sam’s arms. “I don’t wanna go. I wanna stay here with you! Take me home, Mommy!”

 

“Dylan, you gotta start school,” Dean said quietly, leaning down. “Every big boy does. I went to school, Mommy went to school. It’s okay.”

 

“Danny goes here too,” Sam reminded him. “You’ll see him at lunch.”

 

Dylan sniffled and wiped his nose on Sam’s shirt. “Mommy, but I don’t wanna go.”

 

Dean swallowed hard and glanced at Dylan. “Hey, Dyl, did you know that Mommy was really scared his first day of school too?”

 

Dylan looked up at Dean, before glancing at Sam. “Yeah?”

 

Dean nodded. “Yeah. Grampie dropped me and Mommy off, and he kept crying and crying. You know what helped though?”

 

Dylan shook his head. “No.”

 

“Grampie and me walked him to his classroom,” Dean continued. “So why don’t you let me and Mommy walk you to your classroom, okay?”

 

Dylan sniffled and nodded. “Okay.”

 

Dean gave Dylan a kiss and nodded. “Okay.”

 

Sam pushed himself off the Impala and shifted Dylan in his arms, walking with Dean up to the school. He smiled when Dean opened the door for him and walked in, the air conditioned air hitting him like a bullet. “Remember where it was, Dylan?”

 

Dylan pointed down the hallway to the right and Sam smiled and nodded. “Remember who your teacher is?”

 

Dylan shook his head, burying his head in Sam’s chest when they stopped in front of his classroom. 

 

“Mr Daylin,” Dean said quietly, glancing into the classroom. “Come on, looks like this is it.”

 

Mr Daylin stood up from his desk and walked over to them, a grin on his face. “And who do we have here?”

 

Dean extended his hand to Mr Daylin, who shook it heartily. “I’m Dean Winchester, this is Sam.”

 

Sam smiled and nodded to Mr Daylin. 

 

“And who’s the little boy wrapped up in the shirt?” Mr Daylin asked, leaning down a little. “What’s your name?”

 

Dylan swallowed hard and lifted his head. “Dylan.”

 

Mr Daylin grinned. “Hi, Dylan. I’m gonna be your teacher for this year, maybe the next if you stick around with my first graders. I’m Mr Daylin.” He reached his hand out to Dylan.

 

Dylan wrapped his hand around a couple of Mr Daylin’s fingers, shaking them gently. “Hi,” he said softly before reburying his face in Sam’s chest. “Mommy, I don’t wanna stay,” he whined, curling into Sam. 

 

“Don’t worry about it, I get it all the time,” Mr Daylin said, looking around the classroom. “Okay, Dylan, got a favourite superhero?”

 

Dylan nodded.

 

“Who is it, Dylan?” Sam prompted gently.

 

“Superman,” Dylan answered, looking over at Mr Daylin. 

 

“Wow, he’s my favourite too!” Mr Daylin exclaimed. “What a coincidence. Now, if you would just come over to my desk over there, I have a couple Superman comic books.” He lifted his eyes to look at Sam and Dean. “If that’s okay.”

 

Sam and Dean both nodded. 

 

“Is that okay, Dylan?” Mr Daylin asked.

 

“I guess so,” Dylan said softly. “Can you carry me?”

 

“Dylan!” Sam cried. “He’s your teacher, not your--”

 

“If I’m allowed, it’s fine,” Mr Daylin assured him. 

 

Sam and Dean glanced at each other, before Dean finally shrugged. “Yeah, it sounds okay.” He turned to Dylan giving him a quick kiss. “Be good, okay? Me and Mommy are gonna go, I gotta get to work.”

 

Sam gave Dylan a kiss and stepped to Mr Daylin, handing Dylan off to him. “Have a good day, Dylan. Mommy’ll be here to pick you up afterwards, okay?”

 

Dylan nodded and wrapped an arm around Mr Daylin’s neck. “Bye Mommy! Bye Daddy!”

 

Sam and Dean both grinned and waved before stepping out of the classroom, waving again when they got out into the hallway. “Okay, so that went better than expected,” Sam said, crossing his arms.

 

“Okay, so do you wanna drive me or do you want me to drop you back off at home?” Dean asked, holding the door open again for Sam. 

 

“I’ll drive ya,” Sam said, squinting in the bright sunlight.

 

Dean tossed him the keys and walked over to the passenger side, climbing in. “Seems like a nice guy, Mr Daylin.”

 

“Yeah,” Sam nodded, climbing into the Impala. He turned on the ignition and reached down, changing the radio station. “I just hope he can keep Dylan calm for the rest of the day.” He pulled out of the parking lot, nodding his head along to the music. “What time are you getting off work today?”

 

“Not until after closing,” Dean said, watching out the window. “I’ll call you or something.”

 

Sam sighed and nodded, pulling to a stop. He looked around, glancing at Dean. “So how’s it going?”

 

“Good,” Dean nodded. “It’s good.”

 

“Good,” Sam echoed. He glanced over at Dean again, giving him a quick smile. “So I um…I’m thinking about getting a job.”

 

Dean looked over at Sam, drumming his fingers on his lap. “Where?”

 

Sam shrugged. “I don’t know. I just think I need something to do with you and Dylan gone.”

 

“You have to pick him up,” Dean said, looking back out the window. “He gets off at two-thirty.”

 

“I know,” Sam said quietly. “But what am I supposed to do at home alone everyday?”

 

Dean shrugged. “I can hire you, you know.”

 

Sam smiled. “I don’t know Dean, that doesn’t sound like a good move.”

 

“Why not?” Dean asked, shifting in his seat. “We’d both have the car, wouldn’t have to worry about the driving situation as much…”

 

“You really wanna take our fighting to the public?” Sam asked, looking over at Dean.

 

Dean drew a sharp breath and he closed his eyes. “It’s not that bad.”

 

“Dylan notices it,” Sam said. “Paula notices it.”

 

“Paula should mind her own business,” Dean muttered. 

 

Sam snorted and rolled his eyes. “She’s just trying to be nice.”

 

“She doesn’t know anything about us,” Dean said, “she doesn’t get a say.”

 

Sam sighed. “And this, Dean? This is why I can’t work with you.”

 

Dean looked over at Sam slowly, swallowing hard. 

 

* * * *

 

Sam took a sip of his cappuccino, leaning against the Impala, scanning the paper in front of him. He took another drink, before setting it down on the hood beside the newspaper. He tapped his finger on the page, reaching out for his drink. He knocked it over, gasping loudly as it quickly spread over the car. “Dean is going to kill me,” he muttered. He jumped back before it could drip onto him, knocking into somebody behind him.

 

The man cried out in pain as he hit the ground.

 

Sam turned around and swallowed hard, immediately dropping down to the sidewalk. “Oh my god, I am so sorry. Did I-- are you okay?”

 

The man nodded and rubbed the back of his head as he sat up. “I’m okay,” he assured Sam, looking up at him.

 

Sam couldn’t help but smile at the man’s accent, staring at him before he realized what he was doing. “I really am sorry. I just spilled my coffee and-- and you probably don’t care, do you?”

 

The man smiled and held his hand out to Sam, who took it, not doing anything with it. “Um, can you help me up?” the man asked, giving Sam a quick smile.

 

“Sorry,” Sam said, standing up. He gripped onto the man’s hand and helped him up. “I’m-- I’m Sam.”

 

The man let go of Sam’s hand to reach back, swiping dirt and gravel off his jeans. “Sebastien.” He reached over and picked up the coffee cup, tossing it into the trash.

 

“Thanks,” Sam said, reaching out to grab the newspaper, but Sebastien got to it first. 

 

Sebastien picked up and scanned the page quickly before throwing the soak paper into the trash. “You’re looking for a job?”

 

Sam shrugged. “Uh, kind of. It’s stupid. I don’t really need one.”

 

Sebastien nodded and looked down at his watch. “If you can come with me, I can see what I can do.”

 

“Uh, what?” Sam asked.

 

“I work at a bookstore,” Sebastien said, “I can see if we need somebody.”

 

Sam smiled and thought for a moment before he shook his head. “I couldn’t. I can’t. That would be-- I mean, I knocked you over, I kind of don’t deserve your help.”

 

“Maybe if you get a job, you won’t have to knock anybody else over,” Sebastien smiled. “Please, it’s no trouble. And I can’t leave you out on the street. You might hurt somebody.”

 

Sam smiled back and blushed, ducking his head. “Um…yeah, okay. Sure. Where do you work again?”

 

“Studios Evil,” Sebastien said. 

 

“And it’s a bookstore?” Sam asked.

 

Sebastien smiled. “Sort of. It’s just down the street, will you come?”

 

Sam nodded, before he glanced back at the car. “I should-- I have to clean this off before it like,” he ran his finger through the liquid, “sets in or something.”

 

Sebastien nodded. “I’ll leave you to that then.” He nodded once and began walking away from Sam.

 

Sam looked down at the car and looked back at Sebastien, sighing. “Wait! I can-- I’ll clean it later. I guess. I just hope it doesn’t stain.” He made sure he had his keys before he began following Sebastien down the sidewalk. “Um, I can only work like, part time. I have to pick up Dylan at two-thirty everyday.”

 

“Dylan?” Sebastien asked, glancing over at him. 

 

“Oh sorry,” Sam said. “Dylan’s my son. He just started school today.”

 

“Oh, so you were like a…” Sebastien trailed off as he thought of the right words, “stay at home dad?”

 

Sam nodded. “Yeah, kind of.”

 

“Where’s his mother work?” Sebastien asked, looking up at Sam.

 

“Oh, Dean works at Music Alley,” Sam said, smiling when Sebastien held the door open for him. “It’s a CD store in Anaheim.”

 

Sebastien smiled as he waved at the person already behind the counter. “So, this is Studios Evil.”

 

Sam looked around, and realized that it wasn’t an actual bookstore; with posters of movies based on comic books and quotes from Clark Kent, Stan Lee and an assortment of other people on the walls, Sam realized that Studios Evil was a comic book store. “You sell comic books?”

 

“Graphic novels,” the girl from behind the counter said. “Plus memorabilia, movies, TV shows. Sebastien, who’s this?”

 

“Sam,” Sebastien said. “Sam, this is Lacy.”

 

“Hi,” Sam said, nodding.

 

“I told him I might be able to get him a job,” Sebastien said, walking over to the counter. “Since we just fired Max and everything.”

 

Lacy shrugged and picked up her bag off the counter. “I don’t know, but Peter’s upstairs. Ask him.”

 

“Peter?” Sam asked quietly.

 

“The boss,” Lacy said, smiling. “Have fun you two. Sam, I look forward to seeing you again. Just list a couple of superheroes and you’ll probably get the job.”

 

Sam smiled and nodded, watching Lacy leave. “I should…I don’t know, I feel kind of stupid. I don’t think knocking you to the ground is the kind of thing that would make your boss want to hire me.”

 

“Actually, knowing him, I think it’s exactly what would make him want to hire you,” Sebastien smiled. “Just hang out for a couple seconds, he’ll be down soon.”

 

Sam nodded and began walking around, looking at the shelves upon shelves of graphic novels, smiling at some of the familiar titles. “So uh, your accent…where are you from?”

 

“France,” Sebastien said, pulling off his sweater, dropping it to the floor. “Boulogne.” 

 

Sam studied a Spiderman action figure, before turning back to Sebastien. “I don’t think I’ve heard of it.”

 

“It’s a uh…suburb?” Sebastien asked.

 

“Yeah,” Sam said.

 

“Suburb, in Paris,” Sebastien finished. “I moved for university.”

 

“Yeah, me too,” Sam murmured, pulling a book off the shelf.

 

“Oh, where are you from?” Sebastien asked, leaning against the counter.

 

“Oh, all over really,” Sam replied. “Kansas, originally. But me and my-- we just moved a lot when I was a kid.”

 

“Are you buying that book?” a voice suddenly asked from the balcony above them.

 

Sam looked up, watching a man just a few years older than him walking down the stairs along the wall. “Uh…no?”

 

“Peter, this is Sam,” Sebastien said. “He needs a job.”

 

Peter studied Sam for a moment. “How old are you?”

 

“Isn’t it illegal to ask that before hiring someone?” Sam asked.

 

“Four graphic novels turned into movies,” Peter said, reaching over to take the book from Sam.

 

Sam swallowed hard, glancing over at Sebastien, who was just smiling. “Um…Sin City, Road to Perdition, V for Vendetta and…” he thought for a minute, “League of Extraordinary Gentlemen?”

 

Peter studied Sam again, a serious look on his face. “You know, most people crack under the pressure,” he grinned, handing the book back to Sam. “So you need a job, huh, Sam?”

 

Sam nodded. “Well, not so much need as want. I kind of have nothing to do with my days right now.”

 

“Full-time or part-time?” Peter asked, grabbing a stick of liquorice from the counter.

 

“Part-time,” Sam said. “I need to be off by two-thirty. And I can’t start until after eight-thirty.”

 

“Nine to two, five days a week?” Peter asked. “Too much, too little?”

 

“As long as it’s the weekdays, it should be fine,” Sam said. 

 

“Pay matter?” Peter asked.

 

Sam shook his head. “My…boyfriend? Um,” he lifted his hands, doing air quotes, “my ‘husband’ kind of gets paid enough already.”

 

Peter and Sebastien both smiled. “What are you doing tomorrow, Sam?” Peter asked.

 

Sam thought for a moment. “Driving Dylan to school, driving Dean to work…”

 

“Coming here,” Peter said, walking over to Sam to shake his hand. “Sebastien, you’re coming in early tomorrow, show the kid here the ropes.”

 

“I’m hired?” Sam clarified. “Are you sure? I mean, already?”

 

Peter shrugged. “I don’t see anybody else walking through that door, you have to better than the last guy that worked here, you don’t care how much I pay you, and you were smart enough not to answer the age question.”

 

Sam smiled. “Okay, yeah. Thank you.”

 

Peter nodded. “So, how old are you?”

 

“Twenty-nine,” Sam said automatically.

 

“Alright, nice,” Peter nodded. “Okay well…I’m going back upstairs. You two do whatever. Sam, don’t distract my best worker. Sebastien, don’t corrupt my new worker.” He grabbed more liquorice and began up the stairs. 

 

“So I guess we’ll be working together now,” Sam said, walking over to the counter. “Can I have a piece of liquorice?”

 

Sebastien nodded, reaching behind him to grab a book. “You have to be gone by two-thirty?”

 

Sam nodded, sucking on the end of the liquorice before biting it.

 

“You should get going then,” Sebastien said, turning back around.

 

Sam glanced down at his watch. “Shit,” he muttered. “Okay, I gotta go. I’ll uh-- I’ll see you tomorrow.” He smiled and walked out the door, rushing down the sidewalk to their car.

 

Sebastien smiled after him, leaning against the counter.

 

“Hey!” Peter said, appearing in his office doorway. “He’s got a ‘husband’!”

 

Sebastien shrugged, taking a piece of liquorice.

 

* * * *

 

Sam swallowed hard and knocked on the classroom door, smiling and giving a small wave when Mr Daylin and Dylan both looked up. “Hi, Dylan, sorry I’m a little late. You okay?”

 

Dylan nodded and looked over at Mr Daylin before grabbing the crayons, putting them back in the box slowly.

 

Mr Daylin pushed himself up from beside Dylan and smiled as he walked over to Sam. 

 

“I’m really sorry I was late,” Sam apologized, stepping into the classroom. “I kind of got distracted for a second and then, before I knew it--”

 

“You’re only ten minutes late,” Mr Daylin assured him. “It’s okay.”

 

“Okay,” Sam nodded. “So um…how was he?”

 

“Does Dylan have any friends his own age?” Mr Daylin asked, leading Sam further into the classroom. 

 

Sam frowned and thought for a moment. “No, actually. That’s bad, isn’t it?”

 

“Dylan didn’t do a lot of talking today,” Mr Daylin said, sitting down on his desk. “And I think it’s more than him just being shy. How old are his friends, if I can ask.”

 

“Danny is seven, Cillian is four,” Sam said.

 

“That’s it?” Mr Daylin asked.

 

Sam nodded. “Yeah. We don’t really know a lot of people around here, I guess.”

 

Mr Daylin nodded. “He’s smart though, isn’t he?”

 

Sam smiled proudly. “Yeah, he is. I mean, for his age. He reads and he writes.”

 

“Math?” Mr Daylin asked.

 

Sam shook his head. “Not so much.”

 

Mr Daylin sighed, looking down at his desk. “Well, that is what I’m here for. I don’t think Dylan knows how to act around other kids.”

 

“Does he like, hit them or something?” Sam asked, sitting down on one of the small desks.

 

Mr Daylin shook his head. “No, he just sat at his desk. He watched the other kids play like they were something he’d never seen before. He only talked to me during class, only talked to a kid with curly hair at lunch.”

 

Sam looked back at Dylan, who was getting his backpack. “He-- he’s an interesting kid. He’s not bad, once you get to know him.”

 

“I have no doubt about it,” Mr Daylin nodded, “the trouble is getting to know him. Do you want me to make him sit and play with the other kids?”

 

Sam looked back at Dylan again. “I mean, if you think it’ll help. He might put up a bit of a fight at first, but I don’t want him to grow up anti-social or something. Dylan, would you come here for a sec?”

 

Dylan nodded, walking over to them slowly. “What?” he asked, leaning against Sam’s leg.

 

Sam leaned down and lifted Dylan up, holding him in his arms. “You gonna talk to the other kids tomorrow?”

 

Dylan shook his head. “I don’t like them.”

 

“You didn’t even talk to them, Dylan,” Sam pointed out. “They’re just like Cillian and Danny, why won’t you play with them?”

 

“I don’t know them,” Dylan said.

 

Mr Daylin thought for a moment. “Dylan, how about if you play with some of the other kids tomorrow, I’ll let you look at my comic books again.”

 

Dylan sighed and shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

 

“Well, what would make you talk to the other kids?” Mr Daylin asked.

 

“Mommy,” Dylan said. “If Mommy can stay, I’ll play with the kids.”

 

“Mommy can’t stay Dylan,” Sam said quietly, rubbing Dylan’s back. “But if you play with the other kids, nicely, we can do whatever you want on the weekends. How about that?”

 

“Maybe,” Dylan said. 

 

“If you don’t play with the other kids, Dylan, maybe you won’t get to sleep with Ba anymore,” Sam told him.

 

Dylan lifted his head. “Mommy, no!”

 

“Well maybe that’s what Mommy needs to do to get you to play with other kids,” Sam said. “Will you play with the other kids tomorrow?”

 

“Fine,” Dylan muttered.

 

“Don’t tell me, tell Mr Daylin,” Sam said.

 

Dylan shifted in Sam’s arms and looked at Mr Daylin. “What if the other kids are mean?”

 

Mr Daylin shook his head. “They won’t be, I promise. I’ll only let you play with the best kids, I promise.”

 

“Okay,” Dylan said, giving a weak smile. “Mommy, can we go now? I’m tired.”

 

Sam pressed his lips to Dylan’s temple and stood up, reaching his hand out to Mr Daylin, shaking it. “Okay, let’s go. Say bye, Dyl.”

 

“Bye Mr Daylin,” Dylan said, waving.

 

Mr Daylin smiled and waved back, moving behind his desk. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Dylan. I’ll have my comics ready.”

 

Sam smiled and walked out of the classroom, going down the hall. “Other than the other kids, how was it?”

 

Dylan shrugged. “It was okay. I like Mr Daylin.”

 

Sam smiled again. “I like him too.” He pushed open the door and began walking over to the Impala.

 

“Mommy, what’s on the car?” Dylan asked, looking up at him.

 

“Coffee,” Sam said. “When we get home and I put you down for your nap, Mommy’s gonna clean it off.”

 

* * * *

 

Dean locked up the CD store and walked over to the Impala, smiling quickly before climbing in. “So, how’d Dylan’s first day go?”

 

Sam turned on the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot. “He likes the teacher.”

 

“That’s it?” Dean asked.

 

Sam sighed, glancing in the rearview mirror. “He’s smart.”

 

“I could’ve told you that,” Dean murmured.

 

“And Mr Daylin likes him, but he says that Dylan doesn’t really like talking to the other kids,” Sam said. “Apparently, the whole day he only talked to him and Danny.”

 

“Yikes,” Dean said softly. “We got a solution?”

 

“I told Dylan I’d take Ba away from him if he couldn’t make friends,” Sam said.

 

Dean looked over at Sam in surprise. “You what?”

 

“Dylan said he wasn’t going to play with the other kids,” Sam began, “so I told him that I might have to take away Ba if he couldn’t at least try it.”

 

Dean glanced in the backseat, where Dylan was asleep in his booster seat. “At least he likes the teacher.”

 

Sam nodded. “But after Mr Daylin told him he’d make sure the kids weren’t mean, Dylan seemed sort of open to playing with the other kids. I don’t know, we’ll see tomorrow if idle threats and a nice teacher do anything.”

 

Dean smiled. “But he wasn’t crying, or bleeding or anything?”

 

Sam shook his head. “Uh, no. Mr Daylin said he wasn’t disruptive or anything, and he’s a good student; he just didn’t talk to anybody.”

 

Dean nodded. “Well, that’s good.”

 

Sam nodded in agreement. “It is.” He turned right and slowed down to let someone pull out in front of them. “Oh, I have something to tell you.”

 

“Yeah?” Dean asked.

 

“I got a job,” Sam said, grinning.

 

“Seriously?” Dean asked, shifting in his seat. “Where? How? What?”

 

“Studios Evil,” Sam said, “a comic book store. I was reading the paper and I-- well, I knocked this guy over onto the sidewalk. He saw what I was reading and said he might be able to get me a job where he worked. All I had to do was name graphic novels turned into movies and the boss, Peter, hired me.”

 

“You sell comic books?” Dean asked, trying not to laugh. “What the hell do you know about comic books?”

 

Sam shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve seen a lot of the movies and stuff. I knew the graphic novels. I must know something. I mean, how did you teach me to read?”

 

Dean grinned. “Can you check out their X-Men inventory?” he asked, looking over at Sam.

 

Sam nodded. “Sure. So anyway, I start tomorrow. I work weekdays, start at nine, finish at two. Is that okay?”

 

Dean nodded. “Of course it is. You don’t need my approval, Sam.”

 

Sam smiled. “Okay. So…the guy Sebastien, the one I bumped into, he seems nice, and there’s a girl that works there too, Lacy, plus the boss. They all seem nice.”

 

“Good,” Dean said. “That’s good. So yay, now we both have jobs.”

 

Sam grinned. “Maybe we will get that vacation in the Hamptons.”

 

Dean laughed, glancing back to make sure they hadn’t woken up Dylan yet. “Maybe,” he agreed softly. He laughed again, before sniffing the air in the car. “Do you smell,” he sniffed again, “coffee?”

 

Sam swallowed hard and smiled weakly, shaking his head. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe.” He pulled to a stop at a red light. “We can just get an air freshener to be sure.”


	8. Chapter 8

Title: Look What Love Has Done - Volume 3 - Chapter 8r32;

Pairing: Sam/Deanr32;

Disclaimer: Not miner32;

Rating: R this chapterr32;

Summary: Sam and Sebastien get infinitely closer Sam's second week of workr32;

Author's Note: Forget volume one, forget volume two; this is volume three r32;

 

five years, five months and eight days old

 

Sam laughed and shook his head as he flipped through the comic book, chewing on the liquorice. “I think you’re an idiot, Peter.”

 

Peter shrugged and went back to organizing the Captain America section of the store. “I think that you’re the idiot,” he replied, glancing back at Sam to see his reaction.

 

Sam stared at Peter before he began laughing again. “Yeah, ‘cause that’s mature.” He looked up when the door opened, smiling quickly at Lacy. “What’s going on?”

 

“I left my gym bag here yesterday,” she explained, going into the back of the store. 

 

Sam flipped the page again, nodding his head slowly, smiling at the book. He looked up again when Lacy came back out, gym bag over her shoulder. “See ya.”

 

“When’s your break, Sam?” Lacy asked, stopping at the door.

 

“I don’t allow him to take breaks,” Peter said, dusting off a Captain America action figure.

 

Lacy smiled and rolled her eyes, glancing back over at Sam. “Sam?”

 

Sam glanced up at the clock on the wall. “I don’t know, whenever I guess. How come?”

 

“Me and Sebastien are running out for a quick lunch or something,” Lacy replied, “you wanna come?”

 

“I only get twenty minutes,” Sam said.

 

Lacy shrugged. “We’re just going down the street.”

 

“Oh,” Sam said. “Um, sure, I guess. I could eat. Peter?”

 

“Oh, no thanks,” Peter said sarcastically, “I’m not hungry. I kind of have to run my store!”

 

Sam rolled his eyes and grabbed his jacket, walking around the counter. “I’ll be back, Peter. Try not to kill yourself.”

 

“I managed to survive thirty-three years without ya, Samuel,” Peter said, “I think I can handle twenty minutes.”

 

Sam smiled and followed Lacy out the door, smiling at Sebastien as he pulled on his jacket. “Hey, Sebastien.”

 

“You got twenty?” Sebastien asked, starting off down the street.

 

Sam nodded. “Ye-- yeah.”

 

“Alright,” Sebastien nodded, leading Sam and Lacy across the street. “I’ll be going back with you, Sam, our shifts…lap over.”

 

“Overlap,” Lacy corrected automatically.

 

“Sure,” Sam said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

 

Sebastien smiled back at him and held open the door for the small restaurant, letting Sam walk in before he did, leaving Lacy to open the door herself.

 

“Thanks,” Lacy muttered, reaching ahead to give Sebastien a small shove.

 

Sam and Sebastien both smiled and Sam looked around. “Do we go to them, or do they come to us?”

 

“Where do you want to sit?” Sebastien asked, looking up at Sam.

 

Sam shrugged and glanced over at Lacy. “Lace?”

 

Lacy walked over to a table by the window and sat down, setting her bag down on the chair beside her. “I am going to run to the ladies room.”

 

“You want your usual?” Sebastien asked, taking off his jacket and sitting down in the other chair beside her. 

 

“Sure,” Lacy nodded, pulling out her cell phone as she walked away from the table.

 

Sebastien smiled up at Sam, who was shrugging off his jacket, setting it on the back of his chair. 

 

“What do they sell here?” Sam asked, sitting down. 

 

Sebastien smiled at the waitress who had just walked over. “I will have nachos and a lemonade. Our friend will have the chicken pecan salad and water. And Sam here will have--” he over at Sam.

 

Sam shrugged, shaking his head. “I don’t know.”

 

“The beef dip,” Sebastien said, turning back to the waitress. 

 

“With a Pepsi, please,” Sam finished, smiling politely up at the waitress. “Thank you.” He sighed and slouched down a little bit in his seat. “Is it going to be ready in twenty-minutes?”

 

Sebastien smiled and turned back to the waitress. “Is there any way you could get ours to go?” He smiled and shifted back to face Sam. “Good point. And Peter won’t care if we eat there.”

 

“As long as we don’t touch anything,” Sam smiled. He looked up as Lacy came back over, sitting down. 

 

Lacy sighed and sat down, turning off her phone. “So Sam, we don’t see each other all that often.”

 

Sam shook his head. “Uh, no, we don’t. Different shifts. So…what’s up?”

 

Lacy smiled. “How do you like it so far?”

 

“It’s-- it’s nice,” Sam said, nodding. “I guess. I never really…had a job before.”

 

Lacy and Sebastien both looked at Sam in surprise. “And you’re how old?” Lacy asked.

 

“Twenty-nine,” Sam replied, shifting in his seat. He swallowed and dropped his eyes, picking at the table in front of him.

 

“You have a kid, right?” Lacy asked.

 

Sam looked up and nodded. “Uh, yeah.” He smiled. “Dylan.”

 

Lacy grinned. “So? Pictures in the wallet or anything?”

 

“Uh…maybe,” Sam said, grabbing onto his jacket, digging for his wallet. He pulled it out and flipped it open. “There’s one in here,” he said, handing the wallet over to Lacy, “and I think there’s a couple on my phone.” He grabbed his phone and turned it on, going to the pictures. “Yeah, here.” He handed his phone to Lacy, looking up as the waitress brought them all their drinks. 

 

“He is so adorable!” Lacy practically squealed, picking up Sam’s phone. “He’s what, five or something, right?”

 

Sam took a sip of his Pepsi, and nodded. “Yeah, five.”

 

“Whose this guy?” Lacy asked, showing Sam the screen.

 

“That’s Dean,” Sam said.

 

“Ooh, the boyfriend?” Lacy grinned. “He’s pretty hot. How old is he?”

 

“Thirty-three,” Sam replied, nodding to himself.

 

“Older man!” Lacy said, nodding to herself. “Nice.”

 

“He’s not that much older,” Sam said, “only four years.”

 

Lacy shrugged and handed the wallet and phone over to Sebastien.

 

“He’s blonde,” Sebastien murmured, examining the pictures of Dylan. “Is he adopted?”

 

Sam thought for a quick second, before nodding. “Uh, yeah.” He smiled nervously. “We got him the day he was born.”

 

Sebastien nodded, going through the pictures on Sam’s phone. “Good-looking family,” he smiled, looking over at Lacy.

 

Lacy smiled, glancing over at Sam. 

 

Sebastien handed the wallet and phone back over to Sam, taking a sip of his lemonade. “Lacy, me and Sam got our food to go.”

 

Lacy’s smile disappeared. “So what, you two are just going to leave me to eat by myself?”

 

“Me and Sam have got fifteen minutes to get back,” Sebastien reminded her. “Come to the store with us, if you don’t want to eat alone.”

 

Lacy glared at Sebastien, shaking her head. “Fine. Fine. Did you at least order my chicken pecan?”

 

Sebastien’s smile disappeared this time and his mouth opened a little. “You mean…I thought-- your regular isn’t the taco salad?”

 

Lacy made a look of disgust and kicked Sebastien under the table. “I hate that stuff Sebastien, you know I ha--” she cut herself off when Sebastien began to laugh. “I hate you, Sebastien.”

 

Sebastien kept laughing and shook her head. “Oh Lacy, calm down. I got your chicken pecan.”

 

“Thank you,” Lacy muttered.

 

Sam glanced down at his watch and began bouncing his foot nervously, glancing around the restaurant.

 

“Sam, calm down,” Sebastien said, reaching out to grasp onto Sam’s shoulder. “Peter is not going to care if we’re late. We’re taking our food once we get it.”

 

Sam nodded. “Yeah, sorry.” He sighed. “I’m just kind of tired I guess.” He rubbed at his eyes and looked up when the waitress reappeared at their table, tray in hand. 

 

“Your beef dip to go,” she said, handing Sam his food, “your nachos to go,” she continued, handing Sebastien his lunch, “and your salad,” she said, handing Lacy the bowl.

 

Sebastien glanced down at his watch and took another drink of his lemonade. “You sure you don’t want to come?” he asked Lacy.

 

“I’m fine,” Lacy assured him. “Just pay up.”

 

Sebastien sighed and rolled his eyes, grabbing a ten dollar bill out of his pocket.

 

Sam grabbed his wallet again and took out a ten, setting it down by Sebastien’s. “See ya later, Lacy.”

 

“Bye,” she said, looking up at Sam before taking a bit of her salad.

 

Sam and Sebastien walked out of the restaurant, bags in hand. “How late do you work to?” 

 

“Closing,” Sebastien said, walking across the street. “No time to spend my money.”

 

Sam grinned and followed closely behind Sebastien, gripping his food in his hand. “So what’s this place like at night? Does Peter like, light up all the action figures and dress up as Mr Fantastic or something?”

 

Sebastien laughed and opened the door to Studios Evil, waving at Peter, who was still arranging shelves. “How is it, Peter?” he asked, walking over to the counter.

 

“Fine,” Peter said, turning around. “I suppose you didn’t bring me back anything, did you?”

 

Sebastien smiled and rolled his eyes, taking his nachos out of the bag. “You can share my nachos, and I’m sure Sam would be happy to share his beef dip.”

 

“No thanks, I don’t want to dip my beef into anything of Sam’s,” Peter said, walking over to grab a couple nachos.

 

Sam smiled and went behind the counter with Sebastien, taking out his beef sandwich, and the small container he supposed was the dip. He took one of the slices, bit into it, and couldn’t help the moan that came out of his mouth.

 

Sebastien turned to Sam and Peter raised an eyebrow, taking another bite of Sebastien’s nachos.

 

“Sorry,” Sam blushed, taking another bite. “But it’s really good. Seriously.”

 

Peter shrugged and reached over, grabbing a slice of the sandwich. “Maybe I can dip into Sam’s beef just once.” He took a bite and nodded. “This is good.” He took another nacho from Sebastien. “I’m going to head out for a couple minutes. You guys just went to that place down the street, right?”

 

Sam nodded, taking another bite of his sandwich. “We’ll watch the store, Pete, don’t worry.”

 

Peter patted his pocket for his wallet and turned and walked out of the store. 

 

Sam shifted on his feet and looked around, wishing they had thought to get drinks to go. He swallowed hard and sighed, taking another small bite.

 

Sebastien poked at his nachos, picking an olive off of them, popping it into his mouth. “I could call him,” he said, looking up at Sam. “Get him to buy us drinks.”

 

Sam smiled and shook his head. “I mean, if you want you can, but I don’t really like to bother Peter. He seems a little high strung to me.”

 

Sebastien nodded understandingly. “I get that. After awhile though…you’ll warm up to him.”

 

Sam nodded and reached over, grabbing one of Sebastien’s nachos. He grinned when Sebastien looked up at him in surprise, and quickly ate the chip. “Yummy. You can have some of my sandwich.”

 

“Maybe I will,” Sebastien murmured, reaching over to take a slice of Sam’s sandwich. “You know, I think Peter has sodas in his office.”

 

“Well I’ll go check,” Sam said, brushing crumbs off his hands. “There better be some of my sandwich left for me when I get back, Seb.”

 

“Just hurry,” Sebastien said, biting into a nacho, “I’m not technically on the clock yet.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes and bounded up the stairs. He walked along, glancing over the railing down at Sebastien, walking into Peter’s office. “Where would they be?” he called.

 

“Mini-fridge!” Sebastien called back, taking another slice of Sam’s sandwich. 

 

“Mini-fridge?” Sam murmured, looking around Peter’s office. “Would that be under the stacks of comic books or the boxes of action figures?” He walked further in and lifted some papers off of objects, looking for anything resembling a mini-fridge. “Sebastien!” he yelled.

 

Sebastien smiled and rolled his eyes, going up the stairs. “Cardboard cut out fall on you, Sam?” he asked, leaning against the doorway.

 

“Where would he find room for a fridge in here?” Sam asked, picking up more things.

 

Sebastien sighed and walked in, going over to the corner. “He hides the fridge under the Jell-o Man and Wobbly comics.”

 

“What the hell is Jell-o Man and Wobbly?” Sam asked, crouching down to open the fridge. He grabbed a soda and handed it back to Sebastien, before taking one for himself.

 

“Exactly,” Sebastien said, taking a drink. “It’s the only comic in the store Peter figures nobody’s ever going to come asking for. It hides the fridge pretty well. Lacy still doesn’t know it’s here.”

 

Sam smiled and tried to put the comics back in the same spots, before just shrugging and taking a drink. He glanced down at his watch, nodding to himself. He took another drink, looking around Peter’s office.

 

Sebastien swallowed hard and stepped closer to Sam, taking another drink. “So um…how does Dylan like school?”

 

Sam shrugged. “He likes it fine, I guess. He still gets a little upset in the morning, but it’s getting better. He’ll grow out of it.” He took a drink, and looked down for a moment, thinking that Sebastien was moving closer, but he wasn’t sure. “I should get back down to the counter,” he said suddenly, looking over at Sebastien. “Before Peter comes back, I mean.”

 

Sebastien shrugged before nodding, bring the bottle up to his mouth. “Okay.” He looked at Sam expectantly.

 

Sam nodded jerkily and took another drink, but didn’t move. 

 

Sebastien took another drink and began looking around Peter’s office, lifting up random pieces of paper, nodding to himself as he scanned them. “Aren’t you going?” he asked, eyes flicking back up to Sam.

 

Sam jumped a little, hand trembling as he clutched his soda in his hand. “Uh-- what?”

 

Sebastien looked up at Sam and set his soda down on Peter’s desk, moving towards him again.

 

“Oh right, downstairs,” Sam murmured, reaching out to set his own soda down. He cleared his throat and backed up as Sebastien stepped forward.

 

Sebastien smiled softly. “I think I’m going to kiss you,” he said softly, stepping towards Sam again.

 

Sam just stared at Sebastien, a million things running through his mind. “I think-- I think I guessed that,” he said, tongue coming out to wet his lips.

 

Sebastien nodded back as he tilted his head upwards, reaching up to cup at Sam’s cheeks, before their lips finally met.

 

Sam gasped and jerked a little, but he didn’t pull away. He moaned softly as Sebastien’s tongue began tracing his lips, pushing at him gently to open his mouth. Sam’s eyes squeezed shut before he pulled back, smacking into the wall. “I-- I-- I gotta go back to work.” He pushed past Sebastien, hurrying out of Peter’s office and down the stairs. 

 

“Sam!” Sebastien called, looking out over the railing.

 

Sam shook his head, pacing back and forth behind the counter. 

 

“Sam!” Sebastien called again, making his way down the stairs.

 

“Don’t!” Sam yelled, straightening up. “Okay, I just…give me a minute.” He shook his head, rubbing at this eyes. “Fuck,” he muttered, “fuck fuck.” He looked up when the door opened, smiling at the customer who walked in. “Good afternoon,” he said, nodding once at the young woman. “Can I help you with anything?” He tried to smile, wondering if his voice sounded as shaky to her as it did to him.

 

“I’ll help her,” Sebastien said, making his way down the rest of the stairs. “You just handle the counter, Sam.”

 

Sam nodded clumsily and leaned against the counter, taking deep breaths. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to his tears well up, breath hitching. He lifted his head and rubbed his face, glancing down at his watch. He looked up when Peter walked into the store, bags in hand.

 

“You okay?” Peter asked, walking over to Sam.

 

Sam nodded. “Ye-- yeah.” He took a deep breath. “No. I gotta-- I gotta go.”

 

“Are you sick?” Peter asked.

 

Sam stared at Peter for a moment before nodding eagerly. “I think so. My stomach. I can’t-- I’m sorry, but I’ve gotta go.”

 

Sebastien looked over at Sam, before quickly looking away. 

 

“Call me tomorrow if you can’t make it in,” Peter said, patting Sam’s shoulder.

 

“Sure,” Sam said, hurrying out of the store. He took a deep breath of the cool air and walked slowly to the Impala, leaning against it for a moment before climbing in. He turned on the ignition and meant to pull out of the parking lot, but his eyes filled with tears and as he slumped against the steering wheel, he couldn’t stop them from spilling over. His breath hitched and he sobbed softly, wrapping his arms around himself.

 

“Seb, go check on the kid, will ya?” Peter asked, taking Sam’s spot behind the counter.

 

“I don’t think I should,” Sebastien said, walking over to Peter.

 

Peter raised an eyebrow and ate a nacho, nodding his head towards the parking lot.

 

Sebastien sighed and shifted on his feet before finally he walked out of the store, going into the parking lot. He knocked once on the passenger’s side window, shifting.

 

Sam looked up and wiped at his eyes. “Leave me alone.”

 

“You have to let me in, Peter’s watching,” Sebastien said, hand on the handle.

 

Sam looked into the window of Studios Evil, where Peter was watching them. He groaned and reached over, opening the door for Sebastien. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Sebastien said softly, climbing into the car.

 

Sam shook his head. “Not your fault. I kissed you back, didn’t I?”

 

“I wouldn’t have done anything if I had known you were going to be this upset,” Sebastien said, looking ahead.

 

Sam rolled his eyes, sniffling. “You asked me about my son and then you kissed me.”

 

“I’m an idiot,” Sebastien muttered, “and I’m sorry.”

 

Sam sighed and wiped at his eyes. “I shouldn’t’ve cried.” He sniffled and sighed again, shifting in his seat. 

 

“Are you going to quit now?” Sebastien asked, finally looking at Sam.

 

Sam shook his head. “No. I can’t. Dean would know something was up, he knows I love working here.”

 

“I wasn’t thinking about Dean when I kissed you,” Sebastien said.

 

Sam sniffled again and looked out the window. “Neither was I, I guess.” He glanced over at Sebastien. “God,” he muttered. “This-- this can’t go any further. I’m with Dean, I love Dean. I’m not going to throw away more than five years fo--”

 

“I get it,” Sebastien interrupted. “I get it.” He sighed. “I should let you go then,” he said, moving his hand to the door handle.

 

Sam blinked a couple times before he pushed himself up in his seat, leaning over to cup Sebastien’s cheeks, pulling him in for a kiss. He brought one leg up onto the seat and pushed himself closer, playing at Sebastien’s tongue with his. He pulled back and sat back down in his seat, wiping off his mouth.

 

“What was that?” Sebastien asked breathlessly, his accent coming on more strong now. “Didn’t you just tell me--”

 

“I-- I don’t know,” Sam said softly. “But I think that you should leave now. I-- I have to pick up Dylan.”

 

“It’s only two,” Sebastien pointed out to Sam.

 

Sam shook his head. “Sebastien, please just…just get out of the car.”

 

Sebastien nodded before climbing out of the car, walking back up to the store.

 

Sam swallowed hard and took a deep breath, finally pulling the car out of the parking lot. 

 

“He okay?” Peter asked, eyeing Sebastien when he walked back into the door.

 

Sebastien nodded and walked behind the counter, picking at his nachos. “Yes, I think so.”

 

“Good,” Peter nodded, taking a bite of his sandwich. 

 

* * * *

 

Sam sat down on the edge of the bed, fingers digging in the mattress.

 

“You okay?” Dean asked, rolling onto his side. 

 

“Yeah,” Sam breathed, glancing back at Dean. He scratched at his arm, swallowing hard. “I think I had a bad sandwich at lunch.”

 

Dean smiled gently and reached out, running his fingers over Sam’s back. “Poor baby. Let me make it better.”

 

Sam tried to smile back, before his head dropped forward. “That’s okay, maybe tomorrow.”

 

Dean sat up and draped himself over Sam’s back, kissing the back of his neck. “Dylan was telling me math problems when I tucked him in.”

 

Sam smiled. “Yeah?”

 

Dean nodded. “Yeah. He was asking me if I knew that one plus one was two.” He laid back down, yawning loudly.

 

Sam cleared his throat and climbed into bed alongside Dean, curling up against him. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, thinking. After a couple minutes, he opened his mouth to speak. “Dean, I have to--” He stopped talking and shifted against Dean.

 

“Have to what?” Dean asked.

 

Sam shook his head. “I have to take a Gravol or something.” Dean kissed Sam’s forehead and moved to push himself up, but Sam just shook his head. “I can get it,” Sam assured him. He sat up again and slowly made his way into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He stared at himself in the mirror before walking over to the toilet, dropping down to his knees in front of it. He took a deep breath as his stomach lurched and he threw up, body jerking.

 

Dean frowned and sat up. “Sammy?” he called.

 

Sam gasped after he heaved again, wiping at his mouth. “I’m fine!” he called, before throwing up again.

 

Dean bit the inside of his lip, watching the bathroom door, listening to Sam. He finally sighed and laid back down, snuggling into the sheets.

 

“What did I do?” Sam murmured, tears stinging his eyes. “What the fuck did I do?” He reached up and flushed the toilet, pushing himself back against the counter.

 

“Are you going to work tomorrow?” Dean called.

 

Sam sniffled and rubbed at his eyes. “I-- I don’t know,” he replied. “Maybe. If I feel better.” He sighed and pushed himself up, cupping water in his mouth, swishing it around.

 

“You want me to get you up?” Dean asked, lifting his head when Sam appeared in the doorway.

 

Sam nodded. “Yeah. I think it just must’ve been the sandwich.” He swallowed and walked over to the bed, smiling down at Dean as he climbed back in. 

 

Dean leaned up to kiss Sam but Sam turned his head away. 

 

“Dean, I just threw up,” Sam reminded him.

 

Dean smiled. “I tasted worse. No open mouth, I promise.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to Sam’s before Sam could move again, smiling against Sam’s mouth. “See?” he asked softly, pulling back. “Not so bad.”

 

Sam smiled and looked away from Dean. “No, not so bad.”

 

Dean gave him another kiss, wrapping an arm around him. “Get some sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning, I promise.”

 

Sam nodded, staring at the wall in front of him. “Yeah. I hope.”

 

* * * *

 

“Can you pick me up around seven tonight?” Dean asked, shifting in his seat.

 

“Yeah, sure,” Sam nodded, looking over at Dean. “What’s going on?”

 

“Bob’s coming in, he’s letting me off early,” Dean grinned, leaning over to give Sam a kiss. “Hey, you maybe wanna do something this weekend?”

 

“You’re off?” Sam asked in surprise.

 

“I think I can swing something,” Dean nodded. “So? You wanna?”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Sam said, smiling back. He gave Dean another kiss. “Now get in there before you're late and he fires your ass.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes but climbed out of the car anyway, waving at Sam before disappearing into the store. 

 

Sam smiled to himself and pulled out of the parking lot, reaching down to change the radio station, turning it up just a little bit. He nodded his head to the music, trying to forget the fact that chances were, he’d probably be running into Sebastien later on that day. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath, turning the radio up a little. “Picture yourself in a boat on a river,” he slowed down and turned right, “with tangerine trees and marmalade skies.” He hummed to himself, just trying to clear his mind. “It’s not going to be awkward,” he muttered, “it’s not going to be awkward.” Sam stopped talking and thought for a moment. “Okay, it might be awkward.”

 

* * * *

 

“Feeling better?” Peter asked, looking up as Sam walked in.

 

Sam nodded and gave Peter a smile, patting his stomach. “Oh yeah. I just-- it was just a stomach thing, I guess. Sorry about running out.”

 

Peter shrugged. “I’d rather have you home than puking up on my merchandise.”

 

“I’ll try and remember that,” Sam said softly, walking behind the counter. He sat down slowly and took a deep breath. “I’m not gonna go out for lunch today.”

 

Peter smiled. “I know you took a soda from me yesterday, Sam,” he said, leaning against the counter.

 

Sam looked up at Peter. “Uh…yeah. Sebastien-- Sebastien said we could.”

 

Peter glared at Sam for a few moments longer before breaking out into a grin. “No worries. Hey, do you think your kid would want a couple Jell-o Man and Wobbly comics?”

 

Sam thought for a moment. “Maybe?” he offered, pretty sure that Dylan would find anything with bright colours and weird names interesting. “I don’t know. Give me one, I’ll see if he likes it.”

 

“Sure thing,” Peter nodded. “Remind me before you leave.” He tapped the counter a couple times before wandering away, going to the other side of the store.

 

Sam sighed and leaned forward in his chair, resting his head in his arms, on the counter. He pulled his chair closer and watched his fingers drumming against the counter. He began singing in his head, tapping his fingers to the beat, hearing Peter move around the store behind him, but he wasn’t paying any attention to him. “Somebody calls you, you answer quite slowly,” he began singing softly, “a girl with kaleidoscope eyes.”

 

“Hey, look alive,” Lacy said, leaning against the counter.

 

Sam jerked up and almost knocked over the phone, but he smiled up at her. “Hey Lace, what’s going on?”

 

“Sebastien called me and asked me to switch shifts,” Lacy explained. “It’s Peter’s hang-out in the office day.”

 

Sam nodded and moved his chair over, giving Lacy room to walk behind the counter. “Guess we finally get to work together,” he smiled.

 

Lacy winked down at Sam and sat down at the computer, tapping a couple keys. “I have to do inventory, you can work the counter.”

 

“Sure,” Sam nodded, leaning back in his chair. 

 

Lacy sighed and brought up a list of all the graphic novels supposedly left in the store. She printed it off and pushed herself up, walking over to the shelves of graphic novels, starting at the beginning. 

 

“What does Peter do if the list is wrong?” Sam asked.

 

Lacy shrugged. “I don’t know, it’s never happened to me before. Happened once when Seb did it, I think Peter had a meltdown.”

 

Sam smiled and grabbed a piece of liquorice, getting out one of the staff comic books. He flipped to where he had left off and began reading, chewing on the liquorice. 

 

Lacy nibbled her bottom lip, dragging her fingertip along the spines of the books, mouthing the words to herself silently. She looked over when the door opened, smiling before going back to the shelves.

 

Sam looked up and smiled, watching the man for a few moments before going back to his comic book. 

 

“Sorry,” Lacy said, stepping out of the way for the man. She wandered back over to the counter, rolling her eyes. “Couldn’t he see that I was busy?”

 

Sam smiled. “He is a customer, Lacy.”

 

“We don’t know that,” Lacy muttered, eyeing the man suspiciously. “Maybe he’s just window shopping.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes and offered Lacy a piece of liquorice. He dropped his eyes, staring down at the counter before looking back up at her. “Do you-- do you know why Sebastien switched shifts?”

 

Lacy shook her head. “Who knows. But I’ll be sure to ask next time we talk,” she teased.

 

Sam smiled. “I was just wondering. No need to make fun.”

 

Lacy sighed, glancing back at the customer. “If he doesn’t get a move on soon I’m gonna have to shove him out of my way.”

 

“Yeah, I can see that,” Sam said, leaning back. “Lacy--” he stopped talking and shook his head. “Never mind.”

 

Lacy’s eyes narrowed and she smiled as she bit into her liquorice. “You’re one strange dude, aren’t you, Sam?”

 

Sam smiled and shrugged. “I guess. People have said that before.”

 

“So what’s up?” Lacy asked, pushing herself up onto the counter, looking around for Peter. “You can tell me.”

 

Sam sighed. “Have you ever like…cheated?” he asked quietly. 

 

“On my boyfriend?” Lacy asked.

 

Sam nodded. “Yeah.”

 

Lacy nodded. “A couple times, in high school. It wasn’t like, a serious relationship to begin with though. Why? Oh my gosh, did Dean cheat on you?”

 

Sam shook his head furiously. “No! No, he didn’t. No. He would never do that.”

 

“Oh,” Lacy said flatly. “Okay then. Did you--” she looked around, “did you cheat on him?”

 

Sam thought for a moment. “What’s cheating?” he asked flatly, meeting Lacy’s eyes.

 

Lacy dropped her jaw, looking down at Sam in shock. “But you seem so in love with him!”

 

“It was just a kiss!” Sam exclaimed. “Two kisses. But I don’t know whether I liked it or not. Can you like kissing somebody else and still love the person you’re with?”

 

“I don’t think you’re supposed to,” Lacy said, “but I don’t know.” She thought for a moment. “Did you tell Dean?”

 

Sam shook his head. “No. I was going to, but…that didn’t work out. And now I don’t know whether I should tell him or not, or what I should do with-- with the guy I kissed.”

 

Lacy hopped down from the counter when the man walked up. “Break time, we talk.”

 

Sam stood up and took the graphic novel from the man, scanning it quickly. “I was actually going to see…the guy on break.” He grabbed a bag. “Fifty-three eighty-seven, sir.” He took the fifty and the ten from the man and gave him his change back, putting the receipt in the bag. “Have a nice day.” He looked up at Lacy. “What should I do?”

 

Lacy shrugged. “I don’t know. I would talk to the guy, and then I’d talk to Dean.”

 

“Lacy!” Peter yelled from his office. “Back to inventory!”

 

Lacy jumped and turned around, looking up at Peter. “Fine!” She sighed and walked back over to the shelves. 

 

Sam glanced up at Peter’s office before standing up, following Lacy over to the shelves. “Uh, Lacy…do you know where Sebastien lives?”

 

Lacy’s jaw dropped and she looked up at Sam, staring at him in disbelief. “Okay, wow. No wonder Sebastien asked me to switch shifts with him.”

 

* * * *

 

Sam cleared his throat and shifted on the doorstep, before finally just knocking.

 

“Hold on!” Sebastien called from behind the door.

 

Sam closed his eyes and thought maybe if he ran as fast as he could, he might be able to get away without Sebastien knowing it was him. Just as he was about to step away from the door, it opened. “Hi,” he said quietly, his stomach sinking.

 

Sebastien looked up at Sam in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

 

“We need to talk,” Sam said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

 

Sebastien sighed. “I don’t think that we do.” He stepped back and began to close the door.

 

Sam sighed and reached out to grab onto the door. “Lacy gave me her break so I could come and talk not you and not have to leave the second I got here, so at least hear me out. For her.”

 

Sebastien stared up at Sam before finally stepping out of the way, letting Sam come in. “You shouldn’t’ve made her do that.”

 

“She offered,” Sam said abruptly. He took a deep breath and nodded once. “Sebastien, why did you kiss me?”

 

“I could ask you the same thing,” Sebastien pointed out, leading Sam out of the hallway into the small living room.

 

“I kissed you because I liked it when you kissed me,” Sam admitted. “Now why did you kiss me?”

 

“Because I like you,” Sebastien said simply, sitting down. 

 

“I’m not single though,” Sam pointed out. “And you knew that.”

 

Sebastien shrugged. “I know. But I like you and-- and sometimes you said how you and Dean fight and I just thought that maybe you’re not as happy as you could be. You said he works till late at night. I thought you’d want to be with somebody who can actually spend time with you.”

 

Sam swallowed hard, dropping his head. “That’s true, but Sebastien--”

 

Sebastien shifted on the couch, bringing one leg up to get closer to Sam. “You don’t like me?” he asked softly.

 

Sam lifted his head. “No, I do. That’s the problem. I like you and I’m with Dean. I’ve only ever really been with two people before, and-- and Dean and I have Dylan and-- and I’m not a cheater, Sebastien.”

 

“You kissed me,” Sebastien pointed out, shifting even closer to Sam. “You already cheated.”

 

Sam looked over at Sebastien, realizing how close he was. “I didn’t come here for this, Sebastien.”

 

“Then why did you come?” Sebastien asked, leaning in to kiss Sam’s neck softly, moving his mouth along the skin.

 

Sam swallowed hard and jerked away from Sebastien. “I can’t do this, Sebastien! I have a family, don’t you get that?”

 

“You’re not happy with them,” Sebastien said, climbing on the couch next to Sam. “When’s the last time Dean said he loved you?”

 

Sam opened his mouth to speak but closed it when he had to think. “I don’t know,” he admitted eventually.

 

“I can love you,” Sebastien whispered, nibbling at Sam’s ear. “I don’t yet, but I can.”

 

Sam moaned softly and melted into Sebastien’s touch, breathing a little heavier. “I shouldn’t…”

 

“I’m not going to tell,” Sebastien assured him, reaching up to cup Sam’s cheek, turning him towards him. “I promise.”

 

Sam nodded jerkily and leaned in, letting Sebastien’s tongue play at his lips before they finally kissed, Sebastien tasting like citrus fruit and Sam tasting like the liquorice from work. 

 

Sebastien pushed at Sam’s mouth and moaned softly when Sam’s lips parted, slipping his tongue in to trace Sam’s mouth. He kept one hand cupping Sam’s cheek, using the other to push at Sam’s jacket, getting it off of his shoulders. He dropped his mouth from Sam’s, kissing his jaw and neck, dropping his other hand to help push Sam’s jacket off the rest of the way. 

 

Sam closed his eyes and sighed, letting the pleasure run through his body, tilting his head to the side to give Sebastien more access.

 

Sebastien kept his mouth on Sam’s neck as he began working at Sam’s shirt, unbuttoning it quickly. He pushed that off and shifted on the couch, pulling back. He reached down and grasped onto the hem of Sam’s t-shirt, pulling it up. He smiled when Sam’s shirt was off, swallowing hard at the sight of Sam’s chest. “You’re gorgeous.” He reached out, trailing his fingers over Sam’s scars.

 

Sam glanced down and blushed, shaking his head. “I’ve only does this with one guy,” he said quietly, meeting Sebastien’s eyes. 

 

“It’s okay,” Sebastien said softly, running his fingers over Sam’s chest. “I think it’s the same.”

 

Sam smiled nervously and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force Dean out of his mind. 

 

Sebastien kissed Sam again, pushing him back onto the couch, moving up to straddle Sam’s hips. “Tell me to stop. I will.”

 

Sam’s head went back and he gasped as Sebastien pressed his hips down onto his. “I…I don’t think I want to stop.”

 

Sebastien smiled and leaned down, kissing him again. “Good.” He sat up and pulled off his t-shirt, leaning down to press kisses over Sam’s chest, biting at the skin, soothing it with his tongue. He kissed over to Sam’s nipple, blowing cool air on it before sucking it into his mouth. 

 

Sam cried out and he thrust his hips up, reaching up to dig his fingers into Sebastien’s hair. “How-- how old are you anyway?”

 

Sebastien lifted his head, panting slightly. “Twenty-three.”

 

Sam sighed and looked away. “Christ, you’re a kid.”

 

Sebastien laughed softly. “You’re only twenty-nine, Sam. You’re not old.”

 

“No, but you’re young,” Sam pointed out. 

 

Sebastien smiled and leaned down, kissing Sam again. “Do you want to stop ‘cause I’m six years younger than you?”

 

Sam shook his head. “No.” That shouldn’t be the reason that I wanna stop, he thought to himself. “I just-- I’m not used to be the older one,” he finished, looking up at Sebastien.

 

“You’ll get used to it,” Sebastien assured him quietly. He kissed him gently, running his fingers through Sam’s hair. “I promise.” He smiled against Sam’s lips and kissed him again.

 

* * * *

 

“Lacy!” Peter yelled, appearing over the railing.

 

Lacy jumped and looked up. “Uh, yeah?”

 

“Where’s Sam?” Peter asked.

 

Lacy swallowed hard and looked around the store. “Well, uh…I let him take my break. He had something he needed to.”

 

“When is he coming back?” Peter asked.

 

Lacy shrugged. “He had a forty minute break, and he left,” she glanced at her watch, “thirty-eight minutes ago. Just give him a chance.” They both looked over to the door when it opened, Sam rushing in.

 

“Am I late?” he asked breathlessly.

 

“Nick of time,” Peter said flatly, walking back into his office.

 

Sam walked over to Lacy, taking a deep breath. “Thanks for covering for me or whatever.”

 

“No problem,” Lacy assured him. “So…I mean, what’d you say to him?”

 

“Uh,” Sam looked around the store, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “I guess there wasn’t really a lot of talking.”

 

“Sam!” Lacy cried. “I didn’t send you over there so you could cheat on Dean some more, I sent you over there so you could tell Sebastien that it wouldn’t happen again.”

 

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” Sam said, looking ashamed. “But-- but he asked me when the last time Dean said I love you was and I couldn’t remember and then he said that he could love me and then we kissed and it just…went from there. Please, don’t hate me. And please don’t tell Dean.”

 

“I don’t even know Dean,” Lacy pointed out, finishing up with the list of action figures. “But even if I did, it’s not my responsibility. It’s yours, and you have to tell him before this goes any further. Tell him now so he doesn’t think you lied about it.”

 

“He’ll hate me,” Sam said, stepping back to let Lacy walk by.

 

“You’ll hate yourself,” Lacy said. “I don’t know you very well Sam, but I know you well enough to know that you’re a guilt trip kind of guy. My guess is that if you don’t tell Dean, he will figure it out himself and then he’s just going to be even more mad.”

 

“How am I supposed to bring something like that up?” Sam asked. “I-- we barely talk, let alone talk about things like that. He will hate me, Lacy. He will kick me out and he will hate me. He won’t let me see Dylan.”

 

“He deserves to know,” Lacy said, going behind the counter. “And Sebastien needs to know that you want to end this.”

 

Sam sniffled and shook his head. “And what if I…kind of don’t?” he asked, dropping his eyes. “I can’t do anything like right now, I don’t know where my head’s at. I just need-- I need the weekend to think and then I’ll decide what I’m going to do.” He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “It’s not going to go on forever. It’s going to stop.”

 

“When?” Lacy demanded. 

 

“Lacy, we hardly know each other, why are you doing this?” Sam asked.

 

“Because Sebastien is my friend,” Lacy said, one hand on her hip. “Because I want to be your friend. Because I don’t want Dean to come in here with a shot-gun, thinking that I am the other person.” She blew her bangs out of her eyes and walked over to the computer, quickly printing off the last inventory list. “And somebody called for you while you were out.”

 

“Was it Dean?” Sam asked quickly. 

 

Lacy shook her head and walked back to the counter. “No, but some other guy.” She lifted up a couple pieces of paper, looking for her pink notepad. “Todd?” she asked, obviously unimpressed.

 

“Oh yeah, Todd’s my neighbour,” Sam nodded. 

 

“Danny needs a drive home, if you can do it,” Lacy read before crumpling the paper up. “And he was wondering if he could stay at your place for a few minutes while he gets home from work.”

 

Sam nodded. “Yeah, that’s fine.” He sighed and leaned against the counter, looking down at his feet.

 

Lacy stepped back and studied Sam for a moment, before standing up on her tiptoes, too short even in her heels. She fixed Sam’s hair, cocking her head to the side. “Maybe you shouldn’t go around looking like you just got laid. It might help the whole lie go a bit better.”

 

Sam swallowed hard before smiling his thanks, watching as Lacy walked back over to the last shelf. 

 

* * * *

 

Dean sighed and dug his toes into the sand, smiling at Sam and Dylan in the water. “How’s the water Dylan?” he called.

 

Dylan shrieked as Sam dumped water on his head, trying to run in the water. “Daddy, come on!”

 

Sam looked up, grinning. “Yeah Daddy, come on!”

 

“Daddy’s relaxing after a long week of work,” Dean replied. He laid back on the towel, taking a deep breath, inhaling the smell of the ocean. 

 

Sam sat down in the water and Dylan climb up onto his shoulders, before laying back down, sending Dylan into the water.

 

Dylan squealed in delight as he fell into the water, coughing slightly as he pushed himself back up.

 

“You okay?” Sam asked, pushing her hair out of his eyes. 

 

Dylan coughed again and nodded, wrapping an arm around Sam’s neck. “Mommy, take me out deeper.”

 

Sam shook his head, wrapping an arm around Dylan, keeping him closer. “I think you’re too young, Dylan. Stay where it’s shallow.”

 

Dean sighed and shifted on the towel, rolling over on his stomach, running his fingers over the sand. 

 

“Carry me,” Dylan whined, wrapping his other arm around Sam. “Mommy, please. I like the water.”

 

Sam stood up and kept both of his arms around Dylan, walking out further into the water. “Hold tight, Dyl, Mommy doesn’t wanna lose you.”

 

Dylan nodded and laid his head against Sam’s chest. “Do you like the water, Mommy?”

 

Sam nodded. “I sure do, Pickle. So does Daddy. So what do you say,” he turned around and looked over at Dean, “we go get him?”

 

Dylan grinned and nodded, turning to wave at Dean. “Daddy!” he called.

 

Dean pushed himself up and rolled over, waving at Dylan and Sam. “Hi, Dylan!”

 

“Come in the water, Daddy!” Dylan yelled, wiggling out of Sam’s arms to drop into the water, swimming a bit before standing up, running out and over to Dean. “Daddy, please?”

 

Dean took his sunglasses off and smiled up at Dylan. “Well how can I say no to that?” He stuck his hand out. “All you gotta do is pull me up.”

 

Dylan grasped onto Dean’s hand and dug his feet into the sand as he began to pull as hard as he could, which of course, wasn’t very hard at all. “Mommy, help me.”

 

Sam walked over and grabbed onto Dean’s wrist, yanking him up. “There Dyl, just a little help from Mommy.”

 

Dylan giggled and kept his hand on Dean’s, leading him over to the water. “Come on, Daddy, swim with me.”

 

“I’m gonna take a bit of a break, kay?” Sam said, turning to Dean.

 

Dean nodded as he was led into the water. “Sure thing.” He leaned up and gave Sam a quick kiss, smiling at him. “Love you, Sammy. And watch my sunglasses.”

 

Sam nodded and walked over to their towels, dropping down. He sighed and laid back, closing his eyes. He tried to swallow past the lump growing in his throat and nodded. “Love you too.”


	9. Chapter 9

five years, five months and twelve days old

 

Sebastien sucked Sam’s fingers into his mouth, thoroughly wetting them. “You like this with Dean?” he asked, letting Sam’s fingers slip from his mouth.

 

“Don’t,” Sam said, pressing Sebastien harder up against the wall. “Just don’t.” He began pressing his fingers into Sebastien, twisting them.

 

Sebastien cried out, panting against the wall. “First time you fucked a guy other than him?” he pressed his hips back onto Sam’s fingers, just to be shoved against the wall again.

 

“Sebastien,” Sam said angrily, working his fingers in and out, “I mean it. Stop.” He began mouthing the back of Sebastien’s neck, twisting his fingers again. He slipped them out and grasped onto to the base of his dick, guiding himself into Sebastien, pressing in slowly.

 

Sebastien’s eyes squeezed shut and his head went back, crying out loudly. “Oh, fuck,” he muttered, working his hips back against Sam, reaching down to began jerking himself off. 

 

“Tight,” Sam groaned, thrusting in and out gently, working himself further in. “Hot.”

 

“Ever fucked at work?” Sebastien asked, tilting his head further back to look up at Sam.

 

“Never worked,” Sam reminded him, thrusting in harder. He groaned, fingers digging into Sebastien’s hips.

 

“Lacy’s done it,” Sebastien smiled, pushing himself up to kiss Sam, tracing his tongue along Sam’s lips. “Probably right in this room.”

 

Sam grinned against Sebastien’s mouth, neck awkwardly bent. “If you can still keep up this conversation,” his breath hitched and he thrust in harder, “I’m doing something wrong.” He began thrusting in quickly, nibbling on Sebastien’s ear. “God, you feel good.” He peeled the fingers of his left hand off Sebastien’s hips, running them up Sebastien’s side to dig them into Sebastien’s hair, tilting his head to the side. “Your accent comes out more when you’re getting all hot and bothered.”

 

Sebastien moaned as he leaned up, sucking Sam’s bottom lip into his mouth. His eyes fluttered and he bit down a bit harder on Sam’s lip as he came, breathing heavily.

 

“God,” Sam muttered as Sebastien tightened around him, thrusting in a couple times before slipping his tongue into Sebastien’s mouth as he came, tongue playing with Sebastien’s. “Taste good,” he murmured, dropping his mouth to kiss Sebastien’s cheek and jaw, nipping at his neck.

 

Sebastien gasped and leaned back against Sam’s broad chest, still working his hips on Sam’s dick. “Come on, I gotta get back to work.”

 

Sam nodded and reached out, bracing himself against the wall before he pulled out of Sebastien, reaching down to carefully pull of the condom, tying it off, throwing it into the waste bin of the storage room. “That was fun,” Sam said, fixing his jeans.

 

Sebastien pulled up his pants, doing up his belt. “I would have to agree.” He opened up the door and walked out, looking around for Peter. He walked a little different over to the counter, sitting down gingerly. 

 

“I gotta go pick up Dylan,” Sam said, leaning on the counter. “When’s your next shift with me?”

 

“Thursday,” Sebastien said, looking up at Sam. “I’ll see you then, ‘kay?”

 

Sam nodded and looked up at Peter’s office, seeing his boss disappear from the doorway. “Bye.” He pushed open the door and walked outside, patting his pocket to make sure he hadn’t forgotten his wallet in the storage room.

 

* * * *

 

“And-- and then,” Dylan began speaking, still trying to shove his supper in his mouth, “Mr Daylin--”

 

“Please don’t speak with your mouth full, Dylan,” Sam said, reaching across the table to wipe at Dylan’s mouth. “Chew, with your mouth closed, swallow, then tell Mommy your story.”

 

Dylan chewed for a few moments longer before he swallowed hard and reached out, taking a drink of water. “Mr Daylin got me to read.”

 

Sam grinned. “Really? Wow, Dylan, that’s awesome. How’d you do?”

 

“Okay, I think,” Dylan said, taking another bite of his food. “I don’t like reading in front of people.”

 

Sam reached out and ran his fingers through Dylan’s hair, smiling over at him. “Yeah, a lot of people get nervous about that. But it wasn’t all that bad, was it?”

 

Dylan shook his head. “It was okay.”

 

Sam smiled and leaned over, kissing Dylan’s forehead. “So what else did you do today?” He took a bite of his chicken, reaching out for his water. 

 

“Math,” Dylan said, poking at his chicken, “and printing.” He looked up at Sam, grinning. “Can I show you something?”

 

Sam nodded. “Where is it?”

 

“My backpack,” Dylan said, trying to wiggle out of his chair. “Can I?”

 

Sam nodded. “You want me to go or are you going?”

 

Dylan dropped down to the floor and began running through the living room, to the hallway. 

 

Sam swallowed and sat back in his chair, waiting to hear Dylan’s feet running back up the hallway.

 

“Mommy!” Dylan yelled, running back through the living room. 

 

“What do you have there?” Sam asked, watching Dylan push himself back up in his chair.

 

Dylan handed the book over to Sam, sitting with his hands on his lap. “Mr Daylin gave it me.”

 

“Harold and the Purple Crayon,” Sam read. “Wow, he gave this to you?”

 

Dylan nodded. “He wants me to read it.” He sighed and thought for a moment. “So we can talk about it.”

 

“Whose supposed to read it?” Sam asked, taking a drink of water. “You, or me and Daddy?”

 

“I think me,” Dylan said, trying to push himself up on his chair. “What’s it about?”

 

Sam examined the book, finding the synopsis. “‘One night, after thinking it over for some time, Harold decided to go for a walk in the moonlight.’ So begins this gentle story that shows just how far your imagination can take you. Armed only with an oversized purple crayon, young Harold draws himself a landscape full of beauty and excitement.” Sam nodded to himself, looking over at Dylan. “How’s that sound?”

 

“Can we read it when Daddy gets home?” Dylan asked, pushing himself up even further, almost sprawled out on the table.

 

“Sure thing,” Sam said. “When you go to bed.” He took another drink of water, setting the book down on the table. “Daddy should be done work soon though, so do you wanna call him and ask if he wants to be picked up?”

 

Dylan nodded eagerly and jumped off his chair again, looking up at Sam for directions. 

 

“Go get my phone, okay? Then you show me how you call Daddy,” Sam said, smiling down at Dylan.

 

Dylan walked into the master bedroom and grabbed Sam’s phone off of the nightstand, walking it back out into the kitchen, climbing up onto Sam’s lap. “Turn it on,” he said, bringing it up to his face.

 

Sam smiled and wrapped an arm around Dylan’s waist, watching him press a couple of buttons before the phone finally turned on. “Okay, do you remember what’s next?”

 

“Have to find his number,” Dylan said, hitting a couple more buttons.

 

Sam laughed softly and reached out, guiding Dylan’s finger to one of the buttons. “Okay, now do you see Daddy’s name?”

 

Dylan read the list of names and shook his head. “Daddy’s not here.”

 

“Daddy’s not his name, Dylan,” Sam said, smiling. “Remember what Daddy’s name is?”

 

Dylan tilted his head back and looked up at Sam. “No.”

 

“Starts with a D,” Sam said, looking at the list of numbers in front of him.

 

“Daddy!” Dylan said, showing the phone to Sam. “Where is he?”

 

“Daddy’s name is Dean,” Sam said. “Can you find that?”

 

“Is that it?” Dylan asked, pointing to the first name on the list. 

 

“Sure is,” Sam said, leaning his head down. “Now what?”

 

Dylan pressed a couple buttons and the phone dialed Dean’s number. Dylan giggled and put the phone up to his hear, listening to it ring. “Hi, Daddy?”

 

“Hey kiddo, what you doing?” Dean asked, leaning against the counter. “How’d you get the phone?”

 

“I dialed it myself,” Dylan said proudly.

 

“Wow,” Dean said. “Wow, that’s great. Mommy around?”

 

“Yep,” Dylan nodded. “Are you done?”

 

“At work?” Dean asked.

 

“Yeah,” Dylan said. “Can you come home now? I got a new book at school today.”

 

“Tell Mommy he can leave now, I’ll be done by the time he gets here,” Dean said.

 

Dylan took the phone away from his ear, looking up at Sam. “Daddy said we can leave now. He’s done.” He brought the phone back up. “Okay Daddy, we’re coming.”

 

Dean laughed softly, nodding. “Okay, I’ll get ready. You can show me your new book, I’m pretty excited.”

 

“Bye Daddy!” Dylan said happily, before hopping off Sam’s lap, giving him the phone. “I’m gonna go say bye to Gus, Mommy.”

 

“Okay,” Sam said, putting the phone up to his ear. “Dean?”

 

“New book, huh?” Dean asked.

 

Sam smiled and nodded, picking up their dishes. “Harold and the Purple Crayon.”

 

“Awesome,” Dean said, “I love that book. Mom used to read it to me. Dylan’s gonna love it.”

 

Sam smiled when Dylan ran back out into the kitchen. “That’s great. Listen, I’m gonna let you go, I’ll see ya in a few minutes, ‘kay?”

 

“Sure,” Dean nodded. “Love ya.”

 

“Love ya too,” Sam said, turning off the phone, slipping it into his pocket. “How is Gus doing these days anyway?”

 

“I think he needs a girl bunny,” Dylan said, grasping onto Sam’s hand.

 

Sam laughed, walking Dylan over to the door. He locked it behind them and walked outside, double-checking the door. “I think Mommy and Daddy have enough responsibility with just Gus.”

 

“Gus is my rep-- reponsibility,” Dylan said, looking up at Sam.

 

“Responsibility,” Sam corrected, opening the car door for him. “Okay, up we go,” he said, helping Dylan into the backseat. He buckled Dylan into his booster seat, closing the door. He climbed into the front seat, glancing in the rear view mirror. “Okay, are you ready?”

 

Dylan nodded. “I wanna go see Daddy.”

 

“Well, go see Daddy we will,” Sam said, turning on the ignition. 

 

* * * *

 

Dean groaned, squeezing his arms around Dylan. “How was Daddy’s little boy today?”

 

“Good,” Dylan replied, wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck. “I got a book.”

 

“You told me on the phone,” Dean said, giving Dylan a kiss. “And I’ve read the book before, it’s good.”

 

“Yeah?” Dylan asked.

 

Dean nodded, sitting down on the couch, holding Dylan to him. “So good. I think you’ll like it.”

 

Dylan sighed and laid his head on Dean’s chest, closing his eyes. “We had chicken for supper.”

 

Dean grinned and kissed the top of Dylan’s head. “I know, I get the leftovers.” He glanced down at his watch. “Well Dylan, we’ve got about an hour before your bedtime. What do you wanna do?”

 

Dylan pushed himself back from Dean, laying back on the couch. “I don’t know. I’m bored.”

 

“Do you have any homework?” Sam asked, dropping his wallet onto the kitchen table. “Wait, do kids that young have homework?”

 

“Mr Daylin gave me math questions,” Dylan said, looking back at Sam. “A sheet.”

 

“When it’s due?” Dean asked, rubbing Dylan’s stomach. “Tomorrow?”

 

“He said when I’m done,” Dylan answered, lifting his head to look at Dean. “It’s in my backpack.”

 

“You wanna go get it, and we’ll work on it?” Dean asked, tugging on Dylan’s shirt, trying to get him to sit up. 

 

“Okay,” Dylan said, waiting a couple seconds before finally sitting up, climbing off the couch. He walked slowly down the hallway, pushing open his bedroom door.

 

“Don’t forget a pencil!” Dean called, sitting up straight. “You gonna help, Sam, or just watch?”

 

“You can do it,” Sam said, sitting down on the other end of the couch. “He likes to do his work with you.”

 

Dean smiled and looked back when he heard Dylan walk back into the living room, paper clutched in one hand, pencil in the other. He smiled at Sam again as he stood up, leading Dylan into the dining room, sitting down at the table. “Okay, you ready Dyl?”

 

Dylan nodded and settled into his chair, putting the sheet on the paper. “Okay.”

 

Dean leaned over and read the question. “Count the footballs, and write the number on that line there, Dyl.”

 

Dylan pressed his finger to the paper, counting quietly as his finger moved across the page. “…Nine, ten…what’s after ten?”

 

“You know what’s after ten,” Dean said gently. “Mommy told you.”

 

“I don’t,” Dylan said grumpily, dropping his head. “Daddy, tell me.”

 

“Well after ten,” Dean said, bringing his chair closer to Dylan’s, “how many are there? Start over at one. Ten plus…”

 

“Four,” Dylan said, looking up at Dean. “Ten plus four.”

 

“How many’s that?” Dean asked, looking down at Dylan.

 

Dylan shrugged and thought for a moment. “One four.”

 

“Right,” Dean nodded, tapping the paper. “Write that in. You know what that number is?”

 

Dylan shook his head as he slowly wrote his numbers in, trying to make them as neat as possible.

 

“Fourteen,” Dean said. “Okay, what’s the next question? Okay, same thing, count and write the number in.”

 

Dylan counted the pumpkins, running his finger over the page again. “Ten plus three. One three.”

 

“Thirteen,” Dean told Dylan. “Write that in now.”

 

Sam yawned and lied down on the couch, head pillowed on his arms. He snuggled into the couch, closing his eyes.

 

“Fill in the missing numbers,” Dean read from the paper. “What’s between those two numbers?”

 

“I don’t know what those numbers are,” Dylan said, looking up at Dean. “What are they?”

 

“I’m gonna count from ten to twenty, okay?” Dean asked. “I want you to listen. Ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty. What two numbers are those?”

 

“I don’t know,” Dylan said, shaking his head.

 

“What are the numbers after the ones?” Dean asked, leaning down.

 

“Six and eight,” Dylan replied.

 

“What’s between six and eight?” Dean asked, looking at Dylan. “I know you know this one.”

 

“Seven,” Dylan answered. “So…seven.”

 

“Seventeen,” Dean corrected. “One seven.”

 

“One seven,” Dylan nodded, writing it in. 

 

“Okay, what comes after those two numbers?” Dean asked, pointing to the next question. “And I want you to figure out what those numbers are, Dylan.”

 

Dylan studied the numbers for a moment, trying to remember the numbers Dean had just listed off for him. “One four, one five. Four…teen and five-teen.”

 

Dean smiled down at Dylan, ruffling his head. “Fifteen,” Dean corrected, “but that’s right, Dylan. See? Not so hard.”

 

Dylan sighed and studied the sheet. “I don’t wanna do this anymore.”

 

“Couple more questions for me, Dyl, then maybe I’ll put you to bed early,” Dean said. “You’re tired, aren’t ya?”

 

Dylan shook his head. “No.”

 

“Okay, then circle the set that has the least pictures,” Dean grinned. “Right there, hearts or shamrocks.”

 

Dylan counted the hearts and wrote a small five beside them, before counting the shamrocks, writing a small four. He sighed before circling the shamrocks. “Right?”

 

“Right,” Dean nodded, smiling. “Okay, now circle the smaller number.”

 

Dylan looked at the numbers. “I don’t know those numbers. They start with three. What’s that?”

 

“That’s the thirties,” Dean said. “That’s thirty-seven and that’s thirty-nine. Which one do you think is smaller?”

 

“Thirty-seven,” Dylan answered, looking at the numbers.

 

“Why?” Dean asked.

 

“Because when I count, seven comes first,” Dylan explained, “and Mr Daylin said that the numbers that come first are smaller.”

 

“That’s right,” Dean nodded. “That’s right. So circle thirty-seven.”

 

Dylan drew a small circle around the thirty-seven, looking at the next question. “That’s one!” he said, pointing to the number.

 

Dean glanced at the paper, nodding. “Yep. You don’t know the next number, do ya?”

 

Dylan shook his head. “It starts with four.”

 

“Can I see this paper?” Dean asked, taking it from Dylan. “Okay, I’m gonna put a little star beside the questions we’re gonna do this week, ‘cause I know you know them. Number eleven, and twelve, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen and seventeen. Then twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three and twenty-four.” He handed the paper back to Dylan. “How many more questions do we have to do this week?” he asked Dylan.

 

Dylan counted up the stars. “Ten.”

 

“Ten,” Dean agreed, nodding. “Alrighty, run down to your bedroom, put this away, get your pyjamas. We’ll get ya ready for bed.”

 

Dylan nodded, climbing down from his chair, walking through the living room and down the hallway to his bedroom. 

 

Dean sighed and pushed his chair back, seeing Sam lying on the couch. He sat up straighter and grabbed Sam’s wallet off the table, standing up. “Sam?” he called.

 

Sam groaned and shifted on the couch. “Yeah?” he asked softly, lifting his head.

 

“Can I borrow a couple bucks for tomorrow?” Dean asked, waving Sam’s wallet. “I haven’t gotten to the bank yet.”

 

“Whatever,” Sam muttered, snuggling back into the couch. 

 

“Thanks,” Dean said, opening up Sam’s wallet. He grabbed a five dollar bill and frowned when he saw something in Sam’s wallet that wasn’t money. He stuck the five dollar bill back in and pulled the condom out, dropping Sam’s wallet back on the table. He threw the condom at Sam, hitting him in the back of the head.

 

“What the…” Sam asked, lifting his head. He sat up and saw the condom fall to the couch. “Oh, that’s mature, Dean.” He reached up, fixing his hair.

 

“Where’d you get the condom from?” Dean asked, leaning against the wall.

 

Sam swallowed hard and his eyes darted away from Dean’s. “At…work,” he said quietly.

 

“You work a comic book store,” Dean pointed out, walking into the living room, “and that’s not a Batman condom, so try again.”

 

“People came in, handing them out,” Sam said, looking over at Dean. “Safe sex week or something. I just stuck it in my wallet.”

 

“Why’d you keep it?” Dean demanded, standing over Sam.

 

Sam sighed and looked up at Dean. “I don’t know. Because I stuck in there and forgot about it?”

 

“We don’t use condoms,” Dean said. 

 

“Maybe we should start,” Sam muttered, rubbing at his eyes.

 

Dean frowned, staring down at Sam. “Why? I haven’t had sex with anybody but you in more than five years. Unless there’s something that you’re not telling me.”

 

Sam tried to keep his body from shaking and his voice from trembling as he began to speak. “Yes Dean,” he began, trying to make it sound sarcastic, “I’m having a torrid affair with my boss, Peter. Who owns a comic book store. Yummy.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes and picked the condom up. “I’m throwing it out.”

 

“Fine,” Sam said. “God, I never thought I’d meet the guy who refused to allow condoms into the house.”

 

“Whatever,” Dean said, walking into the kitchen, ripping the condom open before tossing it away. “There we go. Discussion’s over.”

 

Sam nodded jerkily, taking a deep breath. “Okay.” He rubbed at his face, dropping his eyes.

 

“I’m ready for bed,” Dylan said, walking out of his bedroom, pyjama top on backwards.

 

Sam looked back at Dylan, grinning. “Oh, almost Dylan. Come on, we’ll get your shirt turned around in the bathroom.” He stood up and took Dylan’s hand, leading him into the bathroom.

 

Dean leaned against the counter, watching Sam and Dylan walk into the bathroom. He sighed and rolled his eyes, walking down into Dylan’s bedroom, folding the sheets back and getting Dylan’s pillows and stuffed animals just how he liked them. He felt tears begin to well up in his eyes and he sat down on Dylan’s bed, running his hands over the sheets, dropping his head. He tried to forget about the condom in Sam’s wallet and just believe his story, shaking his head. “It’s a stupid story,” he muttered, standing up. He walked down the hall and wiped at his eyes, sitting down on the couch. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. 

 

“Wanna help read to him?” Sam asked, walking into the living room. “Got a new book, you know.”

 

Dean sniffled and wiped at his eyes, looking over at Sam. “I’m going to bed.” He stood up and walked by Sam, going into the master bedroom, closing the door behind him. He stifled a sob, walking over to the bed. He sat down and wiped at his eyes, frowning. He reached over and grabbed his phone, dialing his father’s number. “Hi, Dad?” he asked quietly.

 

“Hey Dean,” John said, grinning. “How are you? What’s going on?”

 

“I’m okay,” Dean muttered, picking at his jeans. “How are you?”

 

“I’m fine,” John nodded, “but I don’t think you are. What’s going on? Something with Dylan?”

 

“Something with Sam,” Dean answered. “He uh…Dad, I don’t know what’s going on.”

 

“Well why don’t you explain it to me?” John asked.

 

“I found a condom in his wallet,” Dean told John.

 

“Huh,” John said flatly. “So…I’m guessing that you two don’t use them. Since you care.”

 

“He said he got it at work,” Dean continued, “but I don’t believe him. But other than that…I don’t have any proof.”

 

John sighed. “So you think Sam’s cheating.”

 

Dean nodded. “Yeah. I do. I mean, we have been fighting a lot more recently, but we-- I thought we were getting better. I thought we were okay. Then I found that.” He swallowed hard and laid back on the bed, curling up on his side. “Dad, can I just talk…and you just listen?”

 

John breathed in sharply, not sure that he was going to want to hear what Dean was going to say, but he cleared his throat and nodded anyway. “Yeah, sure.”

 

“Dad, I don’t feel like I’m a part of this family anymore,” Dean began quietly. “I work more now and I’m not around to play with Dylan or to talk to Sam and it’s always Sam and Dylan now and I think that I’m losing them, Dad.”

 

“Dean, you’re not losing them,” John said softly, trying to give Dean some reassurance. “Not Dylan, he loves you.”

 

“He’s not mine,” Dean reminded John. “He’s not mine, and when he finds out…he won’t love me. And Sam, Sam’s already cheating, what’s he going to do when he finds out? He’s probably just waiting for something like this to happen. He’ll take Dylan away from me. I’m not his father, I don’t have any claim to him. Once Sam finds out--”

 

“Sam wouldn’t do that to you,” John interrupted. “I wouldn’t let him. And you’re not even one hundred percent of what Sam’s doing now. I want you to get more proof before you go off on Sam.”

 

“What more proof do I need?” Dean demanded. 

 

“Dean, I think you’re just tired,” John told him. “Turn off the phone, and get some shut-eye.”

 

Dean sniffled and rolled his eyes, shutting off his phone. For a second, he felt like sitting up and throwing the phone at the wall, but instead he just dropped it to the floor, wrapping his arms around himself.

 

* * * *

 

Dean picked at his food, poking at it with a fork.

 

“Is something wrong with breakfast?” Sam asked, taking a drink of his orange juice.

 

Dean shook his head slowly, finally taking a bite.

 

“Are you feeling okay?” Sam asked, glancing over at Dylan, who was eating his French toast merrily.

 

Dean shrugged, taking another small bite. “Fine,” he said quietly. He reached out to his orange juice, jerking when he accidentally knocked it over. 

 

Sam swore under his breath and pushed his chair back from the table. 

 

“I’ll get it,” Dean said flatly, standing up slowly, going over to get the paper towel.

 

Dylan reached over and splashed his hand into the puddle of orange juice, giggling loudly.

 

“No, Dylan,” Sam said quickly, reaching out to lift Dylan out of his chair when he realized some off it was running of the edge. “No, no, don’t do that.”

 

Dean walked back over and dropped the sheets of paper towel onto the orange juice. “Sorry,” he said, looking up at Sam.

 

“It’s fine,” Sam said, setting Dylan down. “Come on Dyl, we gotta go wash your hands.”

 

Dean let the paper towel sop up the juice and he sighed, crossing his arms. He reached down and grabbed the paper towel, walking it over to the trash. He shook his head, biting his lip. “I’m not going to work,” he said when Sam walked back out of the bathroom. 

 

“Why?” Sam asked, leaning down to help Dylan do up his shoes.

 

“I’m just not up to it,” Dean said, walking into the living room. He flopped down on the couch and threw an arm over his eyes, settling into the couch.

 

Dylan ran into the living room after Dean, grinning. “Bye, Daddy.” He leaned up and gave Dean a kiss, rubbing Dean’s stomach. “I hope your tummy feels better.”

 

Dean lifted his arm and smiled at Dylan. “I hope it does too, Dylan. Have a good day at school, ‘kay?”

 

“Kay,” Dylan nodded, walking back out into the kitchen.

 

“See ya!” Sam called, opening the door for Dylan.

 

“Whatever,” Dean muttered, rolling onto his side.

 

Sam frowned and led Dylan out of the house, closing the door behind him.

 

* * * *

 

Dean dropped the remote onto the floor, yawning quietly. “I hate television,” he muttered, rubbing at his eyes. He lifted his head when he heard a phone begin to ring from the bedroom, and dropped it back down when he realized it was Sam’s ring tone, not his. “Sam’s?” he murmured, sitting up. “Shit, he forgot his phone.” He sighed and stood up, walking slowly into the bedroom. He got to Sam’s phone just in time to see the caller ID disappear from the screen, reading Sebastien. Dean shrugged and turned around, ready to walk out of the bedroom before he lifted his head. “It-- it could be about work. Or something else.” He turned around and sat on the bed, picking up Sam’s phone. He went to Sam’s voice mail, putting the phone up to his ear. 

 

“Hello, Sam. I hope you know who this is by now. I also hope you get this message before your break, I’d like you to come over then. I miss you. Well…certain parts of you. If you’re not here by one…I just might have to start by myself. See you later.”

 

Dean pulled the phone away from his ear, jaw dropping slightly. “Oh my god,” he said in disbelief. The hand holding the phone was trembling, in between squeezing it as hard as he could. “Fuck!” he screamed, standing up. “Fuck!” he screamed again, shoving Sam’s phone into his pocket. He screamed at the top of his lungs, grabbing his alarm clock, throwing it onto the floor. He grabbed his lamp, smashing it against the wall, throwing an arm up to cover his face from the flying glass.

 

“I hate you!” Dean yelled, not sure whether he meant Sam or Sebastien. He ran over to Sam’s dresser, pulling each of the drawers out, dumping the contents onto the floor. He grabbed the sheets on the bed and yanked them off, throwing them onto the floor. He took a deep breath, blood pounding in his ears, looking around the room for something else to hit. He looked over to the wall and saw a picture of him and Sam together. He walked over slowly and tears filled his eyes before he brought his fist back, smashing through the frame. “I loved you, Sam!” he yelled, almost stomping on the shards of glass now on the floor. He screamed again and stormed out of the bedroom, blood running from his fingers, walking through the kitchen. He threw open the door and walked outside, breathing deeply. 

 

Dean looked around before he remembered that of course, Sam had the car. He dropped down onto the steps and began to cry softly, shoulders shaking as he wiped at his nose. He examined his bloody hand before pushing himself back up. “Fuck it,” he muttered, starting off down the drive way, ignoring the throbbing in his hand. “I’ll walk.”

 

* * * *

 

Sam laughed and nodded, handing the credit card back to the customer. “Have a good day.”

 

The customer smiled and nodded, taking her bag. She walked over to the door, stepping out of the way when Dean walked in, ignoring her completely.

 

“Dean?” Sam asked in surprised, studying him. “What are you-- oh my god, you’re bleeding.”

 

Dean grabbed Sam’s phone out of his pocket, quickly throwing it at him.

 

“Ow!” Sam cried as the phone hit his arm. “What the fuck was that for?” he asked, rubbing his arm.

 

“We’re done!” Dean screamed, wishing he had the phone back so he could throw it again.

 

Lacy looked over at Sam and Dean and Peter stepped out of his office, looking down at them.

 

“What?” Sam asked in disbelief, shaking his head. Even though he knew, he couldn’t help the word coming out of his mouth. “Why?”

 

“I hate you!” Dean yelled, resisting the urge to jump over the counter and pummel Sam into the ground. “I fucking hate you and if you ever come near me again--”

 

“Dean, what’s going on?” Sam asked, stepping out from behind the counter. “I don’t get it.”

 

Dean snorted and rolled his eyes, wiping at his nose, smearing blood across his face “Your fucking boyfriend called, Sam. Don’t play dumb.” Tears began running down his cheeks and he shook his head. “How could you, Sam? I fucking loved you! I trusted you! I nearly died for you, and more than once! And you cheated on me!”

 

Sam swallowed hard and looked down at his cell phone. “Dean, it’s not-- it’s not what you think.”

 

Dean let out a broken sob and squeezed his eyes shut. “Are you fucking another guy?” he asked, before he sniffled.

 

Sam dropped his eyes before leaning down to grab his phone, setting it on the counter. “Yes,” he admitted softly.

 

“Then it’s exactly what I think,” Dean snapped, looking over at Lacy. “He’s fucking another guy, in case you were wondering.” 

 

Lacy dropped her eyes and turned away from Dean.

 

Dean moved his eyes up to Peter. “Are you Sebastien?”

 

Peter shook his head furiously. “Pe-- Peter. I’m his boss.”

 

Dean nodded slowly as he turned back to Sam. “Pick up Dylan. Get your stuff together. Then you move out.”

 

“Dean--” Sam began, but Dean just shook his head.

 

“Then you’re gone,” Dean said again. He sighed and turned around, opening the door, before he stopped again. “Oh, and if you’re not there by one, Sebastien’s going to start by himself.” He glanced down at his watch. “Oh, I guess it’s too late for that.” He walked out the door, letting it slam closed behind him, walking down the sidewalk.

 

* * * *

 

Sam trembled in his seat, glancing back at Dylan. He sniffled and tried to stifle a sob, but it escaped anyway. “God,” he muttered, rubbing at his eyes.

 

“Are you okay, Mommy?” Dylan asked, kicking his legs in his booster seat.

 

Sam nodded and sniffled, glancing in the rear view mirror. “Yeah, I--” he sighed, “Dylan, you remember how Mommy went away awhile ago, to help people?”

 

Dylan nodded. “Yeah.”

 

Sam slowed the car down, almost stopping in front of their house. “I gotta go away again, Dylan” he said finally.”

 

“Mommy, no!” Dylan cried. “I don’t want you to.”

 

“I don’t wanna go either,” Sam said softly, turning off the ignition. “But I have to.” He sighed and opened the car door slowly, climbing out. He closed the door before opening Dylan’s, reaching in to help him out of the booster seat. “Okay Dylan, grab your backpack.”

 

“When are you going?” Dylan asked, helping Sam push the door closed. He pulled on his backpack and grabbed onto Sam’s hand.

 

“I’m gonna go in, get my stuff, smother you with kisses,” Sam began, trying to give Dylan a smile, “then I’ll be gone.”

 

Dylan pouted, digging one of his feet into the ground. “How long?”

 

“I don’t know yet,” Sam admitted. “Longer than last time.” He helped Dylan up the steps and opened the door, following Dylan into the house. He shifted awkwardly at the door, looking around for Dean before he stepped in. “Go put your backpack away, Dyl.” He took a deep breath and walked through the kitchen, closing his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see Dean. He pushed open the door to the bedroom, stopping in surprise when he saw the mess. He looked around the room before he walked in, going over to the closet, grabbing a bag. He grabbed a few items from the closet, shoving them in the bag. Sam turned around and dropped to his knees, picking through the things on the floor, grabbing what he thought he’d need. He looked up when he heard someone at the door, seeing Dylan watching him.

 

“Hi,” Dylan said, looking around the room. “Why is it so messy?”

 

Sam smiled, shaking his head. “Just made a little mess.”

 

Dylan walked into the bedroom and sat down beside Sam, handing him things. 

 

“Where’s your father?” Sam asked quietly.

 

“In my room,” Dylan said, looking up at Sam. “He’s crying. Is he sad because you’re leaving?”

 

“Probably not,” Sam muttered, sniffling. “Are you sad because I’m leaving?”

 

Dylan nodded. “Daddy’s different than you. You’re nicer.”

 

“Don’t say that Dylan,” Sam said quickly, wrapping an arm around Dylan. “Daddy’s nice. He was helping you with your math last night.”

 

“Daddy works,” Dylan said, looking up at Sam. “Who’s gonna make me supper?”

 

“I’m sure Daddy can figure it out,” Sam assured him. “He can cook, I’ve seen him. But maybe you’ll have to stay at Danny’s or at Paula’s for supper, till Daddy’s off work. It’s going to work out, Dylan, I promise.”

 

“But when are you coming home?” Dylan whined. “Can I go with you?”

 

“No,” Dean said from the doorway.

 

Sam and Dylan both looked over to the door and Sam swallowed hard. “Your father’s right,” Sam said, pushing himself up. “You have to stay here. You have school.”

 

Dylan looked over at Dean again, eyes welling up with tears. “Daddy, please?”

 

Dean crossed his arms and shook his head. “No. You have to stay. Sam’s going away for awhile. Sam, your ride’s here.” He walked away from the doorway, leaving Sam and Dylan alone again.

 

“Come on, Dylan, walk me out to the door,” Sam said, taking Dylan’s hand in his. He grabbed his bag and walked slowly out of the bedroom, looking down at Dylan. “It’s going to be okay, Dylan.” He looked out the window, seeing Paula waiting in her car. “You can call me, okay?” he said, crouching down in front of Dylan. “Okay?” he asked, glancing over at Dean, who, after staring at him for a few moments, nodded once. “Anytime you want, okay? I have my phone and just ask Daddy to dial it, okay?”

 

Dylan nodded and reached out, wrapping his arms around Sam’s neck, holding him tightly. “I love you, Mommy.”

 

Sam nodded, squeezing his eyes shut. “I love you too. Anytime, Dylan. In the morning, after school, bedtime, you can call me. I want you to. Tell me about your day.”

 

Dylan nodded again, kissing Sam’s cheek. “Okay. I love you, Mommy,” he repeated, tears running down his cheeks.

 

“I love you more than anything,” Sam whispered. “Always know that. I’m so sorry, Dylan.” He held Dylan tightly, before reaching back, unwrapping Dylan’s arms from around him. “I have to go now. Be good, okay? For everybody. Okay?”

 

Dylan nodded and followed Sam over to the door, still crying. “Mommy,” he whined, reaching up to Sam. “Don’t go.”

 

“I have to, Dyl,” Sam said softly, ruffling Dylan’s hair, “so you have to be good. I love you. Bye.”

 

Dylan began sobbing and stepped back from Sam, giving him room. “Bye, Mommy,” he said through his tears, waving.

 

Sam began crying as he walked out of the house, bag heavy in his arms. He sighed and glanced back at the house as he made his way down the driveway, swallowing hard. He walked over to Paula’s car, opening the backseat, setting his bag on the seat. He smiled weakly at Cillian and Albany and walked around to the other side of the car, climbing in alongside Paula. He sniffled and buckled his seatbelt, glancing over at Paula, who was watching him.

 

“What’d you do?” Paula asked softly, turning on the ignition.

 

Sam shook his head and brought his legs up, sobbing into his knees. “I messed up,” he cried, tears staining his jeans. “I messed up so bad. And I ruined everything.”

 

Paula sighed and pulled out of the driveway, careful not to hit the Impala. “Dean told me he got you a motel room.”

 

Sam shrugged, wiping at his eyes. “Okay. I didn’t know.”

 

Paula nodded and looked over at Sam again. “Whatever it was…it’ll be okay, Sam. Dean loves you. I know he does.”

 

Sam swallowed past the lump in his throat, shaking his head. “Not anymore. He can’t love me. How could he? I don't even like myself right now.”

 

Paula took a deep breath and reached over, rubbing Sam’s leg comfortingly. 

 

* * * *

 

Sam rolled over in the bed, clutching the phone to his ear, crying silently. “That’s great, Dylan,” he nodded. He took a deep breath, listening to what Dylan was saying. He sniffled, wiping at his eyes, trying to smile. “See Dylan,” he began, voice breaking, “it’s not so bad without Mommy.” He began to cry softly, curling up on his side. “Tell me what else happened today.”


	10. Chapter 10

five years, five months and eighteen days old

 

Sam rubbed at his temples, looking over at Michael feeding Albany. “Listen Mike, this was a really nice gesture, but--”

 

“You can’t leave,” Michael said, looking over at Sam.

 

Sam frowned. “Um, why not?”

 

“Paula told me that we have to be extra nice to you,” Michael said, making a face down at Albany, “and that you shouldn’t be alone right now.”

 

Sam snorted and rolled his eyes. “Well, sorry Mike, but I don’t think I deserve to be nice to, and I really don’t feel like being around anybody right now. I could barely make it in to work.”

 

“You’re still working with the guy?” Michael asked in surprise, lifting his head.

 

Sam sighed and shook his head. “Of course not. I wanted to keep working there, but I just ended up quitting a couple days ago.” He rubbed at his temples again, reaching out for his spoon. “Why are you still talking to me?”

 

Michael shrugged, giggling when Albany did. “Because you’re my friend.”

 

“So is Dean,” Sam pointed out.

 

Michael sighed, shifting Albany in his arms, rubbing his back. “I’m not going to hate you for making a mistake, Sam. Of course, I’m not gonna go run out there and call Dean and tell him I’m eating supper with you. I’m neutral. I’m here for both of you.”

 

Sam smiled weakly. “Thank you,” he said softly. 

 

Michael smiled back. “So uh…have you seen Dylan since?”

 

Sam shook his head. “No, just phone calls. I don’t really deserve to see him. Plus, he thinks I’m hu-- he doesn’t know that I’m still in the same county. I think it’s easier that way. If he knew he could see me, he’d be bugging Dean all the time.”

 

“Have you talked to Dean since?” Michael asked, reaching out for his glass of water.

 

“No,” Sam said quickly. “Definitely not. I wouldn’t know what to say. I don’t think he’d wanna talk to me right now anyway.” He took a deep breath. “Maybe later. It’s only Sunday, I have all week,” he said hopefully.

 

“Yeah,” Michael breathed, nodding slowly. “Except that it’s almost been a week already. Dylan’s gonna start to wonder soon though, you know. When you’re moving back home.”

 

Sam nodded. “Yeah, I know. I’m starting to wonder too.” He shifted awkwardly and took a drink of water, swallowing hard. “I gotta go, Michael.”

 

“It’s only six,” Michael pointed out as Sam pushed his chair back.

 

“Please?” Sam asked, standing up. “Just-- I’ll call a cab or something. I--”

 

“I’ll drive you,” Michael said, standing up. “Least I can do.” He smiled and shifted Albany in his arms again, giving him a kiss. “If that’s okay.”

 

Sam nodded and followed Michael through the living room, stopping at the door to slip his feet into his sneakers. He held the door open for Michael and followed him outside, walking around to the passenger side of the car, climbing in. He shifted in his seat, watching Michael buckle Albany into his car seat, waggling his fingers down at him. Sam sighed and smiled, watching Michael climb into the car alongside him. “Has Cillian seen Dylan?” he asked as Michael turned on the ignition.

 

“Uh, yeah,” Michael nodded, pulling out of the driveway. “He came over for supper a couple days ago, Dean couldn’t get off work.”

 

“Oh,” Sam said, nodding. “So like…I mean, does he seem okay?” he asked, glancing over at Michael.

 

“Dylan, or Dean?” Michael asked, giving Sam a smile.

 

“Oh, uh…” Sam trailed off, “I don’t really know. Dylan.”

 

“Sam, Dylan is fine,” Michael assured him. “I mean, yes, he misses you, but he’s smiling, he’s still playing nicely, and Dean is capable of taking care of him.”

 

“Did Dean tell him what I did?” Sam asked.

 

“Would he have understood if he did?” Michael asked back. “He’s not like, filling Dylan’s head with stories of how evil you are. From what I can tell, Dean isn’t saying much of anything, to anybody but Dylan. A thank you here, and a see ya there; other than that, he practically ignored me and Paula. Everything he says and does now is for Dylan.”

 

Sam nodded. “That sounds nice for Dylan. He deserves it. I just mess up when I’m around him.”

 

“Does Dean do marijuana?” Michael asked suddenly, looking over at Sam.

 

Sam shook his head. “No, not in-- not in years. I think he might have when we were teenagers, but…no, why?”

 

“Then he’s spending an awfully lot of time crying,” Michael continued, “and he looks like he’s getting almost no sleep at all. To sum it up, he looks like crap.”

 

“That’s probably not ‘cause I left,” Sam said. “I don’t think he misses me.”

 

“No, but at least there’s still something,” Michael pointed out. “You don’t cry over people you don’t care about. Sam, just call him, talk to him. Maybe he’s waiting for you to make the first move.”

 

Sam shook his head. “I don’t know what to say.”

 

“Did you tell him sorry?” Michael asked.

 

Sam opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again, thinking for a moment. “Uh, no. When he came to the store, he did most of the talking. Or uh, yelling. And throwing. When I went home, I said one word to him. Michael, I just-- I appreciate everything you’re doing, and saying, but I think Dean and I need to deal with this on our own. In our own weird, twisted way.”

 

Michael shrugged. “Okay, fine. It’s your guy’s family and it’s your guy’s problem.” He took a deep breath and shook his head, reaching down to turn the radio on.

 

Sam leaned his head against the window, closing his eyes.

 

* * * *

 

Dean took a deep breath and nodded once, before reaching out, pulling open the door to Studios Evil. He looked around, catching the eye of the girl that had been there when he had gone to throw the phone at Sam.

 

Lacy cleared her throat and looked around, walking over to Dean slowly, not sure that he was even safe to be around at that point. “He isn’t--” her voice was shaky and she stopped talking, taking a deep breath. “Sam isn’t here. He quit.”

 

Dean nodded slowly, looking around. “I was kind of hoping to hear that. But I’m not here for him. I was wondering if Sebastien was in today.”

 

Lacy’s jaw dropped slightly and she stared at Dean in disbelief. “You-- you can’t-- I know what he did to you and your family sucks but if you kill him, I will call the police.”

 

Dean shook his head. “I’m not going to kill him. You can even watch and listen. I just want to talk to him.”

 

“He’s in the back,” Lacy said, stepping back slowly. “I can go get him.”

 

Dean nodded and took a deep breath, looking around the store. He stepped backwards, hovering closer to the door, trying to hear Lacy and Sebastien in the back. He closed his eyes and took another deep breaths, feeling his nerves decide to kick in. “Just a couple minutes,” he murmured to himself, nodding. “Just don’t kill him.” He opened his eyes when he heard Lacy’s voice get louder and he realized that she was out of the backroom, and that Sebastien was with her.

 

Sebastien glanced over at Lacy before taking a couple of steps forward. “Uh…hello.”

 

Dean didn’t reply, didn’t even move, just glared at Sebastien, studying him. “So you’re it, huh?”

 

“You’re Dean, right?” Sebastien asked carefully.

 

Dean nodded once. “Nice accent. France, right?”

 

Sebastien nodded and looked over at Lacy again, frowning. “So, I don’t know why you’re here, bu--”

 

“I’m here because of Sam,” Dean interrupted. “I’m here because last week it came to my attention that you were fucking him.”

 

Sebastien dropped his eyes but looked up again when Dean stepped towards him.

 

“Don’t look away from me, you twat,” Dean snapped, shoving his hands in his pockets. He cleared his throat. “Why’d you do it?”

 

“In case you didn’t notice,” Sebastien began, really not looking to piss Dean off any, “I wasn’t the only one there. It sort of takes two, you know.”

 

Dean raised an eyebrow. “At least,” he said, looking over at Lacy.

 

Lacy’s eyes went and she shook her head furiously. “I-- I-- it was them. I mean, yes, I knew, but I didn’t think it was my place to tell you.”

 

Dean looked back to Sebastien. “And I know that it wasn’t just you, that’s why I kicked Sam out.”

 

Lacy reached up and pushed her hair behind her ear, sighing sadly.

 

“I want your version,” Dean continued, stepping towards Sebastien again. “I wanna know how. I wanna know why and it better be the truth, or I go with my original plan. Which, in case you were wondering, involves a lot of punching. And blood. On my knuckles.”

 

Sebastien gulped and looked over at Lacy, pleading with his eyes.

 

“I told him I’d call the cops,” Lacy assured him under her breath. “Sebastien, just-- just tell him. Or I’ll him what I know.”

 

Sebastien nodded and stepped closer to Dean. “I…I kissed him first. I admit it. But I told him that I was going to and he didn’t stop me.”

 

Dean swallowed hard, past the growing lump in his throat and nodded once. 

 

“I apologized and he freaked,” Sebastien continued. “He ran out and left work and our boss made me follow. He was crying and saying that he loved you…that is when he kissed me.”

 

Dean squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to let himself start to cry. “You guys had sex, didn’t you?” he asked softly.

 

Sebastien nodded jerkily. “The next day.”

 

“Sam took my break,” Lacy interjected, hoping that no customers were going to come in at that point. “He told me that he was going end it with him. He said that he loved you and that he couldn’t do it.”

 

Dean drew a sharp breath and looked back over at Sebastien, shifting on his feet. “Then what the hell did you do to him?”

 

“It wasn’t my fault!” Sebastien exclaimed.

 

Dean stepped forward and grabbed Sebastien’s shirt, yanking him in. “Sam may be a little fucked up, but if he was going to stop it with you, then he was going to stop it. Tell me what you did. Tell me what happened.”

 

Sebastien stared down at where Dean had his grip on him and looked back up at him. “I kissed him. I sat him down and I-- I started kissing his neck. He told me to stop because he-- he had a family!”

 

“Then what?” Dean demanded, shaking Sebastien once.

 

“I asked him when…” Sebastien trailed off and dropped his eyes again. “I asked him when the last time that you said I love you was.”

 

Dean stared at Sebastien in disbelief, loosening his grip a bit. “You what?” he asked quietly.

 

“I-- I asked him when the last time you told him you loved him was,” Sebastien repeated quietly, ashamed. “He said he couldn’t remember.”

 

“Do you love him?” Dean asked suddenly.

 

Sebastien lifted his head and sighed. “Would that make a difference?”

 

“If you love him, you can have him,” Dean said angrily. 

 

Sebastien swallowed and shook his head. “I don’t. And I don’t think I ever planned to.”

 

Dean let go of Sebastien altogether and shook his head angrily. “You know, if I didn’t have a fucking kid that I had to go pick up right now, I would kick your ass, you fucking bastard. But I can’t really afford to spend a night in jail.” He grabbed Sebastien again and shook him a couple more times, stepping back. “You ruined my life, for nothing.”

 

Sebastien looked over at Lacy, before just shaking his head slowly. He swallowed hard and walked away, going into back into the back room.

 

Lacy followed Sebastien with her eyes, before turning back to Dean. “Sam is--”

 

“An asshole,” Dean interrupted.

 

“A nice guy,” Lacy corrected. “I know I don’t him as well as you, but if there’s one thing Sam always talked about, it’s how much he loved you and Dylan.”

 

Dean shook his head and dropped his eyes, trying to give Lacy a quick smile. “What does he have that I don’t?” he asked eventually, looking at Lacy.

 

Lacy looked back to where Sebastien had gone. “I don’t know. I think that’s something that you’ll have to ask Sam.”

 

Dean nodded and sniffled. “Thank you.” He turned and opened the door, walking back outside.

 

* * * *

 

Dean stared down at the phone in his hand, thumb hovering over the button to call Sam, tears welling up in his eyes. His whole body shook, sitting on the floor, leaning against the bed. “Hi, Sam,” he said quietly, before shaking his head. “It’s Dean.” He squeezed his eyes shut and snorted. “That’s stupid.” He cleared his throat, before pressing the call button, hearing the number dial before it began to rang.

 

Sam jerked up in his bed, reaching over to grab his phone, seeing Dean’s number on the caller ID. “Hey, Dylan.”

 

Dean sniffled, wiping furiously at his nose. “It’s not Dylan.”

 

Sam straightened up, eyes widening. “Dean? Oh my god, Dean, what-- what’s going on? Is everything okay?”

 

Dean cleared his throat again, nodding. “Ye-- yeah. It’s…not bad.”

 

Sam smiled and let out a sigh of relief. “Good. That’s good. So…how are you?” he asked quietly, shifting on the bed.

 

Dean didn’t answer, just held the phone in his hand, staring at the floor in front of him.

 

Sam shook his head, lying back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He took a deep breath, making sure Dean knew he was still there.

 

Dean sniffled and wiped at his cheeks, squeezing his eyes shut. “This was stupid,” he said finally. “I shouldn’t’ve called.”

 

“No!” Sam cried. “No, it wasn’t stupid. I just…please don’t hang up, Dean.”

 

Dean sniffled again, wrapping one arm around himself. “I don’t have anything to say to you,” he said softly.

 

Sam sniffled and shrugged as tears began to leak down his cheeks. “That’s okay. I just-- I just really wanted to say, for the past week I’ve just wanted to say that…that I’m sorry, Dean. From the bottom of my heart, I’m sorry. And I know that you hate me and you don’t trust me or love me but…I think we need to talk.”

 

Dean shook his head. “No, not now. Not yet. I’m just not ready to see you, Sam.”

 

“When you are though,” Sam began, “I really want to.”

 

“Okay,” Dean said, sniffling. “I went to the comic book store today,” he said eventually.

 

“Wh-- why?” Sam asked. “I wasn’t there, I quit.”

 

“Yeah, I heard,” Dean muttered. “I wasn’t there for you anyway.”

 

Sam’s shoulders slumped and he let out a deep breath. “Oh um…oh my god, how bad did you hurt him?”

 

Dean snorted. “Why? You pissed I hurt your boyfriend?”

 

“No, I’m worried that he’ll call the cops on you!” Sam exclaimed. “I don’t want that, Dean. And he’s not my boyfriend anyway. I figured it was implied that I never wanted to see him again when I…well…”

 

“Told him that you never wanted to see him again?” Dean asked flatly.

 

“Yeah,” Sam admitted. “And then I quit.”

 

Dean sighed. “I gotta go. Dylan’s-- I gotta put him to bed.”

 

“O-- okay,” Sam stuttered. “Um…tell him goodnight?”

 

“Yeah,” Dean said, pulling the phone away from his ear. He turned it off and set the phone on his nightstand, setting his head on his knees, looking around the room at the mess he still hadn’t cleaned up.

 

Sam swallowed hard and turned off his phone. He reached over and set it on the nightstand, rolling over onto his side. He yawned and had to smile just a little, thankful he finally got Dean to hear his apology. “Goodnight, Dean,” he said softly, reaching over to turn off his lamp.

 

Dean lifted his head and wiped at his eyes, tears drying on his cheeks. He pushed himself up and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Night, Sammy,” he said quietly, before standing up, walking out of the bedroom.

 

* * * *

 

Dean knocked on the classroom door, looking through the window to see Mr Daylin at Dylan’s desk. He smiled and pushed the door open, walking in. “Hey, everybody,” he said, waving at Dylan.

 

Dylan looked up from his desk, grinning. “Hi, Daddy!” he said, waving back.

 

“Mr Winchester,” Mr Daylin said, standing up.

 

Dean rolled his eyes. “That would be my father. You can call me Dean,” he said, smiling.

 

Mr Daylin nodded. “Well, Dylan, you all ready to go?” he asked, looking down at Dylan.

 

“Yep,” Dylan nodded, pushing himself up. 

 

“Can I speak with you…Dean?” Mr Daylin asked quietly, nodding towards his desk.

 

“Uh, yeah,” Dean nodded, glancing over at Dylan before he began to follow Mr Daylin over to his desk, smiling as Mr Daylin sat down. “What’s going on? Is Dylan okay?”

 

Mr Daylin sighed, nodding. “Well, yes, academically, there hasn’t been a change. But I have to ask; as his teacher, I have to ask. Is there some problems at home?”

 

Dean sighed, dropping his eyes. He turned around, looking at Dylan. “How can you tell?”

 

“A couple of ways,” Mr Daylin admitted, leaning back in his chair. “He’s started to move further away from his classmates. As cliché as it sounds, he’s started doing some…interesting drawings. And I’ve seen him start to cry a little when other students talk about their families.”

 

Dean looked back at Dylan, giving him a smile and a wave. “Just give me a couple minutes, Dyl, okay?” He turned back to Mr Daylin. “His mo-- Sam’s moved out,” he said quietly.

 

Mr Daylin nodded. “I figured as much, when he stopped being the one to pick Dylan up. Any time soon it’s gonna be back to normal?”

 

“I don’t know,” Dean said, shaking his head. “I mean, is it-- is he okay? Is he saying things? Does he need help?”

 

“I think you should sit him down and talk to him,” Mr Daylin suggested, “perhaps with Sam. What does Dylan think is going on?”

 

“Dylan thinks he’s gone away for work,” Dean replied. “Mr Daylin, I really respect your opinion because you’re like, moulding my son’s mind, but--”

 

“Somebody should tell him what’s going on,” Mr Daylin reiterated, raising an eyebrow up at Dean. “I’m not telling you how to run your lives, Mr Winchester, because it is your family, so I’m nowhere near suggesting that you should let Sam move back in. It’s actually none of my business what you do, unless it affects Dylan in my class. Just talk to him, please. For me.”

 

Dean stared at Mr Daylin in surprise, not really expecting to be lectured when he showed up to pick up Dylan. “Uh, yes sir.” He nodded and turned around, waving Dylan over. “Um, Dylan…” he began, finally realizing that Sam better at speaking to Dylan than he was, “have you been crying in class?” he asked finally, glancing over at Mr Daylin. He crouched down in front of Dylan, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “Are you okay, Dylan?”

 

Dylan nodded. “I’m okay.”

 

“Have you been crying though?” Dean asked again. “It’s okay, you can tell me.”

 

“I miss Mommy,” Dylan said, looking up at Dean, before glancing over at Mr Daylin. “Can we go visit him?” 

 

Dean sighed and stood up, reaching over to shake Mr Daylin’s hand. “I’ll…I’ll try to get this fixed. Thank you.”

 

Mr Daylin nodded, standing up to look down at Dylan. “Alright, Dylan, I’ll see you tomorrow. Okay?”

 

Dylan nodded eagerly and waved at Mr Daylin. “Okay. Bye!”

 

“Bye!” Mr Daylin said, waving back.

 

Dean leaned down and lifted Dylan up, holding him in his arms as they walked out of the classroom. “Dylan, if you’re sad, you can talk to me, you know.”

 

“I’m not really sad,” Dylan said, “I just miss Mommy.”

 

Dean kissed Dylan, holding him closer. He sighed, nodding. “I miss Mommy too. Dylan, I think-- Mommy’s not really on a trip.”

 

“Where is he?” Dylan asked, looking up at Dean. “Why isn’t he at home?”

 

“Because it’s all very complicated,” Dean answered. “It’s an adult thing. You’ll understand when you’re older. But, since Mommy isn’t really away, we can go visit him.”

 

“Really?” Dylan asked excitedly. “Right now?”

 

“Sure,” Dean nodded. “We can pick up something to eat first and take it to Mommy. How’s that sound? Will that make you happy?”

 

Dylan nodded eagerly. “Yeah.”

 

“Okay, good,” Dean nodded, kissing Dylan’s forehead. “That’s all I want, kiddo.”

 

* * * *

 

Sam sat up when he heard the knock on the door, swallowing hard. He closed his book and sat it down, swinging his legs off the bed. He stood up and walked to the door slowly, sliding the chain out before opening the door.

 

“Mommy!” Dylan yelled, reaching out to him from Dean’s arms.

 

Dean nodded and cleared his throat, using his foot to push the door open a bit more. “Hey,” he said quietly, stepping into the room to hand Dylan over to Sam. He reached over, setting the bag of fast food on the table.

 

“Mommy,” Dylan said again, throwing his arms around Sam’s neck.

 

Sam stayed silent, staring at Dean in shock, before he finally jerked back to reality, wrapping his arms around Dylan. “Hi, Dylan, what’s going on?” he asked, rubbing Dylan’s back. “I missed you, Pickle.”

 

“I missed you too, Mommy,” Dylan said, face buried in Sam’s neck.

 

Dean closed the door behind him, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

 

Sam closed his eyes and sat down on the edge of the bed, kissing Dylan’s cheek. “How are you?”

 

“Okay,” Dylan replied, pulling back to give Sam a kiss. “I miss you,” he said again. He looked back at Dean, who was leaning against the door. “Daddy misses you too.”

 

Sam looked over at Dean, who dropped his eyes. “I miss him too,” he said softly. “I miss both of you.” He cleared his throat, trying to smile. “So how’s school going?”

 

Dylan shrugged, resting his head on Sam’s chest. “It’s okay.” He sighed, crawling off Sam’s lap to drop down onto the bed. 

 

Sam looked down at Dylan, reaching out to tickle his stomach, smiling when Dylan giggled and tried to roll away from him. He looked over at Dean, who was watching him back. “Hi, Dean,” he said softly.

 

Dean nodded, looking away from Sam again. “Hey, Sam.” He cleared his throat, nodding over at the table. “Brought supper. Or lunch, whatever. But if you already ate--”

 

Sam shook his head. “I haven’t. Thank you.” He stood up and walked over to the table, opening the bag. He smiled over at Dean as he reached in, grabbing some French fries. “Did you eat?”

 

Dean shook his head. “Our food’s in there.”

 

Sam nodded and pulled the chair out from the table, nodding down at it as he walked back over to the bed, sitting down.

 

Dean took a deep breath and sat down at the table, reaching in to grab his burger and Dylan’s chicken nuggets. “Dylan, sit up when you eat,” he said, reaching over to hand Dylan in his food. He shifted in his seat and unwrapped his burger, reaching up to scratch at his face before picking it up, taking a small bite.

 

Sam swallowed and looked over at Dean, not used to seeing him pick at his food.

 

Dean took another small bite before shaking his head, setting the burger back down on the table. He looked over at Sam, feeling his eyes on him. “Just don’t feel like eating,” he said softly, rubbing his stomach.

 

Sam nodded and looked over, making sure Dylan was sitting up and chewing his food without just swallowing it down. “Dylan, please chew slower.”

 

Dylan nodded, taking another bite of his chicken nugget.

 

Sam grabbed a couple more fries before setting the box onto the bed, standing up. “Dean, can I-- can we talk outside for a second?” he asked, shifting nervously.

 

Dean looked up at Sam before nodding slowly, standing up. “We’ll be right out here, Dylan. Be good.”

 

Dylan nodded and reached over, taking one of Sam’s fries.

 

Sam smiled and followed Dean outside, closing the door behind them.

 

Dean sighed and looked up at Sam expectantly, hands shoved in his pockets. “Yeah?” he asked, obviously uncomfortable.

 

“Can’t we talk?” Sam asked hopefully. “I think we need to talk.”

 

“I don’t think there’s anything to talk about,” Dean replied. “You said sorry. You’ve done what you’re supposed to do.”

 

“You don’t wanna know why?” Sam asked, hating how closed off Dean was. “Or-- or you don’t wanna talk about me coming home? That is if…” he trailed off, dropping his eyes. “You don’t want me coming home, do you?”

 

Dean rubbed at his eyes, shaking his head. “Sam, I didn’t come here to talk about this. I came here because Dylan’s crying in class whenever somebody mentions their mother and he misses you. This is for him, okay?”

 

“You don’t miss me?” Sam asked quietly.

 

“Of course I do, Sam!” Dean exclaimed. “God, how could I not? We’ve been together almost everyday for more than six years. You’re my brother! You don’t think I miss you?”

 

“Then why aren’t I back home?” Sam asked pointedly. “If Dylan misses me and you miss me and I miss both of you--”

 

“Do you get what you did?” Dean interrupted angrily. “Do you understand that you cheated on me? You wanna know why you’re not back home, Sam? Because you fucked another guy, that’s why. I can’t look at you without feeling sick and I sure as hell am not ready to start trusting you again. Is that a good enough reason? Goddammit Sam, he doesn’t even love you! I asked him, you know.” He looked away from Sam, teeth clenching in anger. “I’m not gonna go crawling back to you, Sam. I won’t.”

 

Sam dropped his eyes and took a deep breath, feeling a lump start in his throat. “I know what I did was wrong, Dean, I know. I knew it while it was happening and after and I wanted to tell you but I just…I just think that maybe I deserve another chance here, Dean. I was wrong but you can’t throw it all awa--”

 

Dean snorted and rolled his eyes, shifting on his feet. “I can’t throw it all away? Me? I didn’t throw anything away, you bastard. And you want another chance? Fuck that, Sam. I’m the one who was cheated on here, and until you get that…” He shook his head, looking everywhere but at Sam.

 

Sam began to sob quietly, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I am. And I would give anything in the world to be able to go back. To take it all back. I wish I had never even met him. Just another chance.”

 

Dean looked up at Sam, eyes shining with tears. “Sam, picking you up at Stanford was another chance. God, letting you take care of Dylan after telling me that you wanted to hurt him was another chance. Not kicking you out of our lives when you became an addict…yeah, that was another chance. I think I’ve given you enough chances over the years, Sammy.” He sniffled and rubbed at his eyes.

 

“Then what’s one more gonna hurt?” Sam asked, regretting it the second it came out of his mouth. He stared at Dean, swallowing, before he just shook his head. “Fine. Okay, fine, you’re right. You’re always right. I hurt you, Dean, I know I did.”

 

“You have no idea how much you hurt me,” Dean snapped. “Everything I’ve given up for you, Sam! Everything I risked by falling for you! We could’ve gone to jail for what we’ve done! You’re my brother Sam, and that’s why this is harder! I thought we’d be together forever,” he said quietly. “I really did. Especially when we had Dylan. Brothers, with a kid. I don’t think that there’s a fucking tighter bond in the world.”

 

“Well for your information Dean, this isn’t easy for me either!” Sam exclaimed. 

 

“No, you’re right,” Dean said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “Because it’s so hard to go fuck a random guy for no reason!”

 

“I thought that you didn’t love me!” Sam cried. “Okay? I honestly, seriously believed that you didn’t love me anymore. Do you know how hard it was to think that? And then Sebastien said that he could. I know it’s stupid, okay? But-- but you just have to remember the guy that you fell in love with. That-- that seventeen-year-old who saved you from the chupacabra. Or-- or the guy that kissed you. I messed up, and yes, more than once, but I’m still your brother. And I’m still that guy.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes again and shook his head. “I don’t think you are. That’s the problem.”

 

Sam sniffled and shook his head. “I was stupid to think that we’d be okay if I just apologized. I ruined everything. An apology isn’t gonna make you look at me the same way again. Nothing will.” He shook his head again, tears filling his eyes. “You should probably go now,” he said, voice breaking. He opened the door to the motel room, glancing back at Dean before he walked in, over to Dylan, sitting down on the bed.

 

Dean shook his head and dug his foot into the ground, lifting his head to watch Sam and Dylan in the room. He looked away, feeling as if he was intruding on something, and looked back only when he heard Dylan start to cry. “Crap,” he muttered, opening the door.

 

“I don’t wanna go!” Dylan sobbed, standing up on the bed. “Daddy, let me stay.”

 

“Dylan, I think it’s time that we go,” Dean said softly, stepping towards the bed.

 

Dylan shook his head. “No! I don’t wanna! I wanna stay with Mommy!” He sniffled and jumped off the bed when Dean stepped towards the bed again. 

 

“Dylan, if you’re not gonna be good, I’m not gonna bring you back to visit Mommy,” Dean said gently. “Now come on, it’s time to go.”

 

“Dylan, listen to your father,” Sam said, crouching down in front of Dylan. “You have to go, okay?” Dylan shook his head again, but Sam just lifted Dylan up, standing up with Dylan in his arms. “I’m gonna miss you too, Dyl, but you’ve gotta go now.”

 

Dylan sniffled and sighed, resting his head on Sam’s chest. “Daddy’s being mean.”

 

More tears sprung to Dean’s eyes and he shook his head, swallowing. “I don’t mean to be mean, Dylan, but--”

 

“I was the one who asked Daddy to take you home,” Sam interrupted, glancing over at Dean. “I love you, Dylan,” he said softly, rocking Dylan in his arms. “I’m sorry it has to be this way.”

 

“I want you to come home!” Dylan cried, lifting his head. “Please? Mommy, I miss you. Daddy, make Mommy come home!”

 

“I-- I can’t,” Dean said, stepping towards Sam and Dylan.

 

Dylan sniffled and opened his mouth, screaming at the top of his lungs. “No!” He screamed again, trying to push himself out of Sam’s arms.

 

Sam rubbed Dylan’s back, shushing him. He sat down on the bed, holding Dylan close to him. “I love you, Dylan,” he said again, kissing Dylan’s cheek. “You need to calm down. You need to be good.”

 

“I don’t wanna be good though,” Dylan cried, trying to worm out of Sam’s arms. “I want you to be home.”

 

Sam nodded, squeezing Dylan close to him. “I want to be home too, Dylan.”

 

“Then come home!” Dylan cried. “Please?”

 

Sam closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “I’m not allowed, Dylan.”

 

Dylan sniffled and pulled back, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Why? What’d you do?”

 

Sam looked over at Dean. “I-- I hurt Daddy’s feelings.”

 

Dean shifted on his feet, looking away from Sam.

 

Sam cleared his throat and continued on. “I’m sorry, Dylan. I’m sorry that I had to hurt you and Daddy. But I have to stay here, until Daddy feels better.”

 

Dylan looked over at Dean. “Daddy, why can’t you feel better?”

 

Dean shook his head. “Dylan, come on. We’re going.” He walked over to the bed and leaned down, lifting Dylan up and out of Sam’s arms. “It’s okay, Dylan, it’ll be okay. Okay?” He rubbed Dylan’s back, holding him close as he straightened back up. “You can always call Mommy, remember?”

 

Sam wiped at his eyes, sniffling. “He’s right, Dylan. Just go on home, okay? I’ll be here, if you wanna call me. Or if Daddy wants to bring you by again.” He stood up, leaning down to give Dylan a kiss. “It’s okay, Dylan, just stop crying, okay? It’s not Daddy’s fault, it’s mine. Don’t get mad at him. I don't want you to get mad at him."

 

Dylan sniffled and wiped at his cheeks, resting his head on Dean’s chest, looking up at Sam. “I love you, Mommy.”

 

“I love you too, Dylan,” Sam said, smiling. He gave him another kiss. He cleared his throat and straightened up. “I…I guess I’ll talk to you later, Dean.”

 

Dean nodded, shifting awkwardly.

 

“Um…” Sam stammered, looking around before he stepped towards Dean, loosely wrapping an arm around Dean’s shoulders. “Okay then.” He pulled back, nodding at Dean. “Be good you two,” he smiled.

 

Dylan nodded and wrapped an arm around Dean’s neck, waving as Dean opened the door, stepping outside. 

 

Dean turned back to close the door, meeting Sam’s eyes for a moment before the door closed, leaving Sam alone again.

 

Sam nodded jerkily, looking around the empty motel room. His eyes filled with tears and he sniffled. Walking over to the door, he leaned against it and slid down onto the floor, sobbing quietly to himself. He cleared his throat and lifted his head. “I’m sorry, Dean!” he yelled, hoping Dean was still close enough to hear him.

 

Dean looked up and stopped walking for a moment, eyes on Sam’s door. He took a deep breath and sighed, leaning down to help Dylan into the car.

 

* * * *

 

Sam’s eyes flew open when he heard somebody moving in his room. He instantly held his breath, tried not to move too much, not wanting to alert the person to the fact that he had woken up. He swallowed hard, trying to figure out where exactly the person was. He laid still for a few more moments before a searing pain began in his stomach, like his skin was being peeled off. He gasped and lifted his head, hands instantly going to his stomach. 

 

“It won’t last long,” the person said before the lights flicked on.

 

Sam gasped at the sudden light and looked around, not recognizing the man. “Who are you? What are you doing?” He lifted his shirt, seeing his scar start to reopen, blood running down on his sheets. “God,” he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut. “Please stop,” he pleaded, the scar slowly working its way completely open.

 

“Where’s my son?” the man demanded.

 

Sam lifted his head, tears running down his cheeks. “What? I-- I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“Where is Dylan?” the man asked and Sam’s scar ripped a couple more inches quickly. 

 

Sam looked at the man, confused. “I don’t get it,” he said, clutching his hands to his stomach. “He’s not yours. He’s mine.”

 

“And mine,” the man said, cocking his head to the side. “He’s why I’m here. I’m taking him back.”

 

Sam shook his head and tried to sit up, more blood just spilling out, more pain spreading through his body. “He’s mine,” he said again. “Who are you?”

 

“Rosier,” the man said, smiling when Sam’s face started to fill with realization, “and Dylan’s mine. I’m here to take him.”

 

Sam shook his head furiously, lifting one of his hands, seeing the blood. “Please,” he pleaded softly, starting to feel woozy.

 

Rosier sat down on the edge of Sam’s bed, and Sam’s scar opened the rest of the way. “Where is he?” he asked softly.

 

“With his father,” Sam gritted, hands still pressed to his stomach, blood pouring out past his fingers. 

 

Rosier laughed and shook his head. “I am his father.”

 

“What?” Sam asked quietly, trying to stay awake. His eyes fluttered and he groaned, gasping softly.

 

“I touched you,” Rosier said. “I had no idea that Dean would claim Dylan as his, but now that I’m back from Hell,” he cracked his neck and frowned down at Sam pointedly, “I’ve come for my son.”

 

Sam shook his head and tried to sit up again, moving his legs off the bed, feet dropping heavily to the floor. “He’s not yours.”

 

“Actually, he’s not Dean’s,” Rosier smirked, “and with you dead and gone, Dean has no claim to him. Dylan is my son, and I’m going to raise him. With powers like his…he’ll be great, won’t he?”

 

Sam gasped and reached out for his phone on the nightstand, falling onto the floor, blood seeping into the carpet. “He’s my son,” he said, trying to push himself back up, “and I won’t let you take him.”

 

Rosier rolled his eyes and kicked Sam in the stomach, smiling when Sam cried out loudly, one hand digging into the floor. “If you won’t help, I’ll just go find him myself.” He crouched down, reaching out to push Sam’s hair out of his eyes. “Thank you though, for carrying him. I knew you’d take care of him.”

 

Sam shook his head as his eyes began to drift closed, his breathing slowing. “Please…” he pleaded softly, swallowing weakly.

 

“Don’t worry,” Rosier said, standing back up, “he’ll be fine. And I promise, Dean won’t feel any pain.” He turned around and walked out of the motel room, leaving Sam on the floor, gasping in pain, eyes fluttering. 

 

Sam waited until he was sure Rosier was gone and he cried out softly as he pushed himself off, blood dripping onto the carpet. He grabbed his phone, blood smearing on the buttons. He clutched at his stomach with one hand as he dialed Dean’s number with the other, hand trembling. He heard it ring and brought the phone up to his ear, hoping and praying that Dean would wake up, and actually answer when he saw it was him calling. “Dean,” he said weakly, head spinning.

 

“What?” Dean snapped quickly, before he actually began listening to the other end of the line. “Sam?” he asked, realizing something was off. “What’s going on? What happened?”

 

Sam let out a deep breath, and shifted, leaning against the bed, closing his eyes. “911,” he breathed.

 

“Sam, what happened?” Dean demanded. “Sam?”

 

Sam’s hand slowly began falling away from his stomach and he groaned softly. “Protect him,” he pleaded softly, feeling himself drift off. He heard Dean call his name once more, and he smiled weakly. “I love you,” he said before the phone fell out of his fingers. He fell over, awkwardly bent, face pressing into the floor. “And I’m so-- sorry.”

 

“Sam!” Dean yelled, throwing his covers off of him. “Come on, Sam, don’t do this,” he pleaded, grabbing his jeans off the floor. “What did you do?” he yelled into the phone, hearing nothing on the other end. “Shit,” he muttered, pulling his jeans on. “Fuck.” He turned off his phone and grabbed a shirt, running out of his room, running down the hallway to Dylan’s room. “Dylan!” he yelled, turning on the lights. “Get up, now!”

 

Dylan whined and lifted his head, rubbing at his eyes. “Daddy?” he asked softly.

 

“Get up!” Dean yelled again, going over to the bed, lifting Dylan up. “Okay, Dylan, I am going to take you to Todd’s, okay?”

 

Dylan nodded sleepily as Dean carried him down the hall, through the living room and kitchen. 

 

Dean quickly slipped his feet into his sneakers and unlocked the door, pushing it open. He ran down the steps and past the Impala, down the driveway. He glanced both ways before dashing across the street and up Todd’s driveway, banging on the door when he reached the house. “Todd!” he yelled, bouncing up and down a couple down. “Todd, please!” he yelled, banging on the door. “Please Todd, please wake up!” He sighed in relief when he saw the lights turn on, Todd stumbling to the door, opening it slowly.

 

“Dean?” Todd asked, stretching his arms above his head. “What…”

 

“Please, Todd,” Dean pleaded, “I need you to watch Dylan.”

 

“What’s going on?” Todd asked, stepping out of the way.

 

“There’s something wrong with Sam,” Dean said quickly, handing Dylan off to Todd, “he called and he’s hurt. I think he-- I just need to get him to the hospital. Please, Todd.”

 

Todd nodded, holding Dylan to him. “You might wanna get a shirt on.”

 

Dean shook his head and blew a quick kiss at Dylan, before turning around, running back down Todd’s driveway and across the street. He opened the door to the Impala, before remembering he didn’t have his keys. “Fuck!” he yelled, running back up to the house, grabbing his keys and grabbing his jacket before running back outside, climbing into the car. He turned on the ignition and quickly pulled out of the driveway, tires squealing. He shifted in his seat, fingers gripping the wheel tightly. “Fuck, Sam,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Come on,” he breathed, pressing down on the gas.

 

* * * *

 

Sam’s head lolled from one side to the other and he could feel himself slowly drifting back, eyes fluttering open in a bright, white room. He groaned softly and squeezed his eyes shut, fingers flexing on the bed. He tried opening his eyes again, head lolling back over. “Hey,” he heard, and he looked around the room, swallowing hard when he saw Dean beside the bed. 

 

“How you feeling?” Dean asked, reaching out to brush Sam’s hair off his forehead, smiling down at him. 

 

Sam shook his head and reached up, rubbing at his eyes. “Am I dead?” he asked quietly, voice rough.

 

Dean laughed softly and shook his head, leaning down to kiss Sam’s forehead. “No, you’re not,” he assured him, rubbing Sam’s forehead gently with his thumb.

 

Sam groaned when he tried to shift on the bed, feeling something pull in his stomach. He moved his sheets off of him, lifting the hem off the white t-shirt he was wearing.

 

“Stitches,” Dean explained quietly, reaching out to grasp onto Sam’s hand. “Just like when Dylan was born.”

 

Sam’s eyes opened wide and he quickly tried to sit up, but pain just shot through his body. “Dylan,” he said, glancing over at Dean, squeezing his hand. “I’ve gotta protect Dylan.”

 

“Shh,” Dean said softly, shaking his head. “No, Dylan’s fine. He’s in the waiting room, with Todd and Danny. I called Dad, he’s coming to take care of him.” He cocked his head slightly, swallowing hard. “I thought that you tried to kill yourself.”

 

Sam shook his head. “Rosier,” he said, breathing heavily, “he’s here.”

 

“Sam, you need to calm down,” Dean said gently, holding Sam’s hand in his. “It’s okay, it’ll be okay. Just stay calm, okay? Deep breaths, Sammy.”

 

Sam squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “Dean, you don’t understand.”

 

“Okay then, explain it to me,” Dean said, pulling his chair closer to Sam’s bed.

 

Sam looked at Dean, finally studied him, frowning. “Why are you wearing a jacket with no shirt?” he asked, lifting his head.

 

Dean glanced down before shaking his head. “I had to get to you, Sammy. After you called…”

 

Sam tried to smile back, before more events of the attack started coming back and his eyes filled with tears, shaking his head. “Dean, I have-- I have to tell you something, but I don’t know how,” his voice broke and he looked away. “I don’t know how to talk to you anymore.”

 

“You can tell me whatever,” Dean said, rubbing Sam’s hand. “I’ll listen. We have the time.”

 

Sam shook his head. “There’s too much to-- to say. I can’t.”

 

“Tell me why we have to protect Dylan,” Dean prompted. “What’s going on?”

 

Sam swallowed hard, taking a deep, shaky breath. “Rosier is here. He-- he attacked me last night. He said he wants Dylan. And that he’s going to kill us to do it.”

 

“What do you mean Rosier’s here?” Dean asked quickly, sitting up straight. “I don’t-- what do you mean? He did this to you?”

 

Sam nodded. “He wants Dylan. He asked where he was. Dean, we have to protect him. I have to protect you. He wants you dead too. After me. That’s where he was going last night. To try and find you.”

 

“You let me protect you, first,” Dean said. He leaned down and kissed Sam’s forehead again. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, not sure of the words he was about to say. “I love you, Sammy,” he said eventually.

 

Sam drew a sharp breath and felt his eyes well up with tears. He looked up at Dean, eyes shining. “Really?”

 

Dean nodded, even though he wasn’t sure what he felt at the moment. “I…yeah, I always loved you.” He squeezed Sam’s hand reassuringly, trying to distract Sam. “We’ll do whatever it takes to protect Dylan, okay? We beat Rosier once, we can do it again.”

 

Sam nodded slowly, finally calming down. “Dean, I have to tell you something else.”

 

“Okay,” Dean nodded. “Lay it on me.”

 

Sam sniffled and wiped at his nose, taking a deep breath. “I-- I don’t know how, but…Dean, Dylan isn’t yours,” he finished, voice breaking again, looking up at Dean sadly. “I don’t know how, but Rosier said that Dylan’s his, and that’s why he’s here.” He began to sob softly, eyes squeezed shut, body trembling. “God,” he muttered, rubbing his stomach gently. 

 

Dean swallowed hard and nodded slowly, squeezing Sam’s hand. “It’ll be okay, Sam,” he said. He took a deep breath, hand starting to tremble in Sam’s.

 

Sam shook his head. “Why aren’t you upset?” he asked, his own tears running down his cheeks. “You-- you should be upset.” He sniffled loudly, looking at Dean in wonder.

 

Dean closed his eyes for a moment, thinking hard. “Because I knew,” he admitted finally. “Sammy…I’ve known. And to be completely honest, I’m so relieved and happy that I don’t have to hide it anymore.”

 

Sam began to sob again, shaking his head. “When?” he demanded. “When did you find out? How long have you known?”

 

Dean thought for a moment, doing the math in his head. “Uh…four years, eight months.” He nodded once. “Yeah.”

 

Sam shook his head, trying to sit up again. “Why? How? Dean, why didn’t you tell me?”

 

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know why. Because I was scared.”

 

“Of what?” Sam asked, meeting Dean’s eyes. “Why would you be scared to tell me that?” He wiped at his nose, body still trembling.

 

“Because I knew how upset you would be,” Dean replied quietly. “I didn’t want to make you upset. We were happy and he was just a baby, and I didn’t-- I guess it was like, my burden to bear. I didn’t want you to have to deal with it too. And when I found about…you and him, I thought that if I told you, you would take Dylan away from me. I couldn’t let that happen,” he finished quietly.

 

“God,” Sam muttered, running his hands over his new stitches. “God, I had a-- a demon baby in me.”

 

“Sam!” Dean said sharply, sitting up. “Dylan is not a demon baby. He’s our baby. He’s the same baby he was yesterday, and last month and last year and when he was born. Maybe that’s why I didn’t tell you.”

 

“So when--” Sam’s breath hitched and more tears filled his eyes. “So when we…I was already pregnant?”

 

Dean nodded slowly. “Yeah, I guess so. That’s what Bobby figures too.”

 

Sam sighed, wondering how many other people knew before him. He closed his eyes, holding Dean’s hand tightly. “I’m sorry, Dean. I am so sorry."

 

“Don’t be,” Dean said, shaking his head. “It’s okay. I’m okay. And we’ll be okay. Eventually.” 

 

“I just wish that you told me,” Sam cried, looking up at Dean. “I-- I just-- Dean, I wish you told me. We could've dealt with it together. And I would never take Dylan away from you. Ever. I can’t believe you would think that.”

 

Tears ran slowly down Dean’s cheeks as he leaned down, kissing Sam’s cheek. “I love you,” he breathed.

 

Sam nodded, pressing his lips to Dean’s cheek. “I love you too.”

 

Dean pulled back, reaching down to fix Sam’s hair. “Get back to sleep, Sammy. I’ll be here, Dylan will be here, and soon Dad will be too. We’ll figure it out.”

 

Sam nodded and looked away from Dean, fingers still going over his stitches. “I know how you felt,” he said, reaching out for Dean’s jacket cuff.

 

“When?” Dean asked, ready to push himself up.

 

“When you found out,” Sam answered quietly. “I mean…not really, but when Rosier began cutting me open…did you feel like your stomach was getting ripped out?”

 

“Not quite,” Dean replied, shifting. “But Sam…you could’ve died.”

 

“I bet you wanted to,” Sam continued on, meeting Dean’s eyes. 

 

Dean sighed and nodded slowly. “Yeah, I did. Not before I killed him though.”

 

“I just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry,” Sam said again. “If it means anything now.”

 

Dean took a deep breath, looking away for a moment. “It means...something.”

 

“Good,” Sam nodded. He took a deep breath, as deep of a breath as he could without pulling his stitches and rolled slightly onto his side, closing his eyes. 

 

Dean sat and watched Sam for a couple more minutes before pushing himself up, pulling his jacket closed, walking back out into the waiting room.

 

“How is he?” Todd asked, looking up at Dean, holding Dylan to his lap as Danny played with his Gameboy. 

 

“He’s awake,” Dean replied, sitting down on the other side of Todd, taking Dylan from him, wrapping his arms around him. He kissed Dylan’s forehead and leaned his head back against the wall.

 

“I’m gonna go to your house and wait for your father,” Todd said, standing up, hand on Danny’s shoulder. “I’ll get him to bring you a shirt.”

 

Dean smiled and nodded. “Yeah, thanks.” He kissed Dylan again, closing his eyes. “I’ll see you later, Danny,” he said, reaching out to him.

 

Danny glanced back and nodded, curls bouncing. “See ya,” he waved, before going back to his game.

 

Dylan stirred in Dean’s arms, thumb in his mouth, head on Dean’s shoulder.

 

“Mommy’s okay, Dylan,” Dean said softly, rubbing Dylan’s back. “And Grampie’s coming soon. When Mommy gets better, I think he’s gonna come home.”

 

Dylan’s eyes moved and he made a soft sound, but he stayed asleep in Dean’s arms.

 

Dean smiled and held Dylan a little closer, leaning his head back against the wall. “I’ll make it all okay.”


	11. Chapter 11

Title: Look What Love Has Done - Volume 3 - Chapter 11

Pairing: Sam/Dean

Disclaimer: Not mine

Rating: R this chapter

Summary: Sam goes back home when he gets out of the hospital, but it's not how he remembered it; meanwhile, they try to figure out how to stop Rosier, for good.

Author's Note: Forget volume one, forget volume two; this is volume three 

 

five years, five months and twenty-four days old

 

John climbed out of the Impala and opened up the back door, reaching in to unbuckle Dylan from his booster seat. He looked across the seat to watch Dean open the door for Sam, reaching in to wrap an arm around Sam’s waist, helping him out. “Alrighty, Dylan, let’s get ya in the house.”

 

Dylan wrapped an arm around John’s neck and grabbed onto his arm, climbing into John’s arms as John closed the door. “I’m hungry,” he whined, lifting his head to meet John’s eyes.

 

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it covered,” John said, walking up the driveway, glancing back to watch Dean with Sam. 

 

“Slowly,” Dean said, hand on the small of Sam’s back, walking alongside him. 

 

Sam nodded slowly, shuffling up the driveway. “I’m okay, Dean,” he said softly, lifting his head. “Just a little stiff.”

 

“I just don’t want you to hurt yourself,” Dean explained, stepping closer to press his lips to Sam’s temple. “You do realize that the second you get in this house, you’re going to bed, right?”

 

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes, but decided not to protest it yet. “Will you lie down with me?” he asked hopefully, lifting his head again.

 

Dean sighed, knowing that it was going to come up eventually. “After I get Dylan settled in for lunch,” he nodded, “and I gotta talk to Dad, maybe call Bobby.”

 

Sam shook his head. “Never mind then,” he muttered, lifting his feet to go up the couple steps. He swallowed hard and waited for Dean to open the door for him, grasping onto Dean’s hand. He looked around, toeing off his shoes. He took a deep breath in, looking over at Dylan and John. “Mommy’s finally home, Dyl,” he said, grinning.

 

“Can I hug you yet?” Dylan asked, dropping down from John’s lap, walking slowly over to Sam.

 

“Be gentle,” Dean said, opening the cupboard, looking for glasses.

 

Sam rolled his eyes and crouched down, opening his arms to Dylan. “How’ve you been?” he asked softly, running his fingers through Dylan’s hair.

 

“Okay,” Dylan nodded. “Are you okay?” he asked, pulling back a little bit.

 

“Yeah,” Sam nodded, “I am. That’s why I was in the hospital, so the doctors could make me better.” He hugged Dylan again before pulling back and standing up, smiling over at John. He scratched the back of his neck and reached down, grasping onto Dylan’s hand. “Come on Dyl, I’ve gotta go to bed. Walk with me, won’t ya?”

 

Dylan nodded and began leading Sam out of the kitchen and dining room, and around the corner, pushing open the bedroom door. “Daddy made a mess and he didn’t clean it yet,” he explained, looking up at Sam.

 

Sam smiled and stepped over some of the mess on the floor, going over to the bed. He looked around, seeing the broken picture frame on the floor, glass shards still there. “I don’t want you to go near the glass, okay Dylan?”

 

“Okay,” Dylan nodded, letting go of Sam’s hand. “Have a nice nap, Mommy,” he said, leaning up to kiss Sam’s cheek.

 

Sam smiled. “Thank you. Have a good lunch, Dylan.”

 

Dylan nodded and turned around, walking back through the mess, pulling the door closed behind him.

 

Sam kept smiling as he picked at his oversized hoodie, standing up to undo his jeans, pushing them down. He stepped out of them and carefully pulled off the hoodie, trying not to pull his stitches. He left his clothes on the floor, deciding that a couple more items wouldn’t really add to the mess. He kept one hand on his stomach as he pulled back the bed sheets, climbing under, closing his eyes, feeling instantly comfortable. “Back home,” he murmured, taking a deep breath, smelling Dean all over the sheets and pillows. He rolled onto his side, pulling the sheets up.

 

“Dylan, I don’t want you go to your room alone,” Dean said, handing Dylan his lemonade. “Stay with me or Grampie, okay?”

 

John looked over at Dean, raising an eyebrow. “How ‘bout you just go into the living room, Dylan? I’ll get you your sandwich.”

 

Dylan nodded, stumbling a bit as he brought his cup up to his mouth. “Okay,” he said, walking by John, going into the living room.

 

Dean kept his eyes on Dylan, bringing his own glass up to his mouth, swallowing hard. “We can’t baby him anymore, Dad,” he said, looking over at John.

 

“He’s only five years old,” John pointed out. “If we can’t baby him now, when can we baby him?”

 

“Dad, he needs to grow up,” Dean snapped. “We’ve kept this whole thing as normal as we could for as long as we could, but that has to change.” He finished Dylan’s sandwich, shaking his head. “I’m not letting that thing take my son. And if it means that I have to--”

 

John stood up and walked over to Dean, picking up Dylan’s sandwich. “You’re not telling him,” he commanded, walking away.

 

“He has to find out eventually!” Dean yelled, slamming the drawer closed.

 

John walked into the living room, kneeling down in front of the couch, smiling at Dylan. “Here’s your sandwich, Dylan.”

 

Dylan set his cup down on the coffee table and took his sandwich from John, taking a big bite out of it. He chewed a couple times and tried to swallow.

 

John reached out and picked up Dylan’s glass, holding it up to his mouth. “There ya go, Dylan. Chew a little longer next time, ‘kay?”

 

Dylan nodded and took another drink, finally swallowing his food. “Grampie, why is Daddy mad?”

 

John sighed and reached out, running his fingers through Dylan’s hair. “Because somebody hurt your mommy,” he said finally, meeting Dylan’s eyes as Dylan took another bite, “and your daddy’s a little worried that that person might come back and hurt you.”

 

“Oh,” Dylan said quietly, taking another drink. 

 

“He loves ya, you know,” John said.

 

Dylan nodded. “I know.”

 

John leaned forward and kissed Dylan’s forehead before pushing himself up, walking back into the kitchen, sitting back down at the dinner table. “Dean, I’m sorry.”

 

Dean shook his head. “Not your fault. Sam and I did something wrong the first time; Rosier wasn’t supposed to come back.” He took a deep breath. “Fuck,” he muttered. “He nearly fucking killed Sam. To get to Dylan. And Sam knows. He knows that Dylan’s not mine and he knows I knew and…” he rubbed at his eyes. “I’m just tired. Last couple weeks have been a little…draining.”

 

“Go to bed then,” John suggested. “I can watch Dylan.”

 

Dean shook his head. “First time Sam’s been back home since I kicked him out. I think I need a little more to deal with the whole telling him that I forgave him thing.” He finished his own sandwich and walked over to the table, sitting down. “If he hadn’t been attacked, he wouldn’t be here right now. I don’t forgive him. I can’t.”

 

“Does Sam know that?” John asked.

 

Dean shrugged. “Maybe. I’m not gonna tell him, make him feel even worse.” He took a bite of his sandwich, staring down at the table in front of him. “I’m just gotta save Dylan and then I’ll deal with all of that later. For now…you can sleep with Sam, or on the couch. I can sleep with Dylan…or on the couch.” He took another bite, eyes flicking up to meet John’s. “Did you call Bobby?”

 

“He wanted to know whether you wanted him to come,” John replied, nodding his head. “Told him I didn’t know.”

 

Dean shrugged again. “I don’t know, I guess. I don’t really care. If he thinks that he can help Dylan, then yeah. If he’s just gonna yell at me for not telling Sammy about Rosier earlier, then I don’t wanna hear it.”

 

“What if it’s a bit of both?” John asked, smiling. “‘Cause you know if it’s Bobby…he’s gonna yell.”

 

Dean had to smile at that, taking a bite of his sandwich. He swallowed it down, breathing out heavily. “Do you think-- maybe…Rosier would take a sacrifice?” he finished quietly.

 

“Christ, Dean!” John exclaimed, causing Dean to jump and Dylan to look up from the living room. “Are you ever going to stop doing things for other people? Are you ever gonna think about yourself?”

 

“I take care of my family!” Dean yelled, pushing his chair back. “Some might consider that--”

 

“You can’t sacrifice yourself for this Dean,” John said, standing up, walking after Dean. “You-- you never think about yourself. Ever. Dylan’s not yours--”

 

“He’s not deaf!” Dean yelled. “Jesus, Dad!”

 

“--and you don’t tell Sam for four years because of what it’ll do to Sam,” John continued on. “You lied to Sam so that he wouldn’t feel worse about what he did! You don’t talk about anything, you just fight your way out of everything!”

 

“Well where the hell do you think I learned it from, Dad?” Dean yelled back, pushing by John. “Call Bobby, do whatever the fuck you wanna do! I have to protect my family! If I don’t, nobody else will!” He stormed through the kitchen and dining room, going into the living room, dropping to his knees in front of Dylan and the couch. 

 

“Daddy?” Dylan asked, eyes wide, looking at Dean.

 

“I love you,” Dean said softly, pulling Dylan in for a hug. “I’m gonna take care of you, okay? I promise.”

 

Dylan nodded. “Yeah, okay.” He turned his head to rest it on Dean’s shoulders, taking a deep breath. “I love you too, Daddy.”

 

Dean smiled and nodded, squeezing Dylan gently. “I…I’m sorry I yelled at Grampie, okay?”

 

Dylan nodded again. “Can I finish my sandwich now?”

 

Dean sniffled and grinned, nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, of course. Sorry.” He stood back up, kissing his fingertips, pressing them to the top of Dylan’s head. He walked back into the kitchen, swallowing hard as he glanced over at John. “Call Bobby. Tell him we’re coming.”

 

John raised an eyebrow. “We’re coming? You sure?”

 

Dean nodded quickly, wiping at his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure. For some reason…Rosier couldn’t find Dylan. He found Sam, but he couldn’t find Dylan. Bobby’s is far enough away to try and throw Rosier off.”

 

“So what?” John asked. “You’re just not going to come back? You’re gonna take Dylan out of school?”

 

“No!” Dean cried “No. We’ll come back; I’m not taking Dylan out of school either. I’ll talk to Mr Daylin. He has to understand. I just-- I don’t want Dylan here. That bastard gutted Sam, what else do you think he’d do?” He shook his head. “I should go tell Sam, huh?”

 

John nodded. “I’ll call Bobby.”

 

Dean nodded his thanks and walked by him again, turning the corner to knock softly on the bedroom door, before pushing it open. “Sammy?” he asked softly, walking in.

 

Sam groaned softly and lifted his head, eyes fluttering as he looked over at Dean. “Yeah?” he asked, voice rough.

 

Dean sighed and walked the rest of the way in and sat down on the edge of the bed. “What do you say to a road trip?”

 

Sam looked at Dean in confusion, sitting up slowly, hand moving to his stomach. “Where are we going?”

 

“I think we should go visit Bobby,” Dean explained. “Get him to help. Figure out how to keep Rosier away forever.” He moved to reach out to Sam, but decided against it, hand gripping the sheets instead. “What do you think?”

 

Sam shrugged and pushed himself up the rest of the way. “I don’t know. I don’t-- I don’t really wanna take Dylan out of school. Who knows how much time he could miss?”

 

“We can’t stop him ourselves, Sam,” Dean said quietly. “We tried, remember?”

 

Sam nodded and rubbed his stomach absentmindedly, looking down. “I…maybe Bobby can come here? Dylan would get to stay in school. And-- and I don’t know if I should be driving that far right now.” He swallowed hard. “Sorry.”

 

Dean shook his head. “No, you’re right. Dylan-- Dylan should stay in school. And you shouldn’t drive that far. Something could happen and we’d be stuck in the middle of nowhere.” He stood up and walked over to the door, stopping for a moment before walking back out. 

 

“Yeah?” Sam asked, bracing himself against the bed, lying back down.

 

Dean glanced back and sighed, shaking his head. “Just thinking,” he replied, before slipping back out of the room.

 

Sam frowned and shifted under the sheets, watching the door.

 

John looked up when Dean came back out of the bedroom and pushed himself up slowly, walking by Dean, knocking softly on the bedroom door.

 

Sam sat up a bit, trying to smile over at his father. “Hi, Dad,” he said softly, shifting on the bed.

 

John nodded once and walked in, closing the door behind him. He looked around the room, careful not to step on any of the mess as he walked over to the bed, sitting down on the edge. 

 

“What’s going on?” Sam asked, awkwardly propping one of his pillows up against the headboard, looking at John.

 

“We have to talk, Sammy,” John said quietly.

 

Sam sighed and nodded. “Yeah. I figured as much. So…how much do you hate me right now?”

 

John shook his head and stood up, needing to move around. “Sammy, do you know how much you hurt the people in this house?”

 

Sam shook his head slowly. “No, I don’t. I know that I did, but I don’t know what it was like.”

 

“You almost fucking destroyed Dean!” John yelled, causing Sam to flinch. “He cried on the phone to me! You hurt him, Sam!”

 

Sam nodded jerkily, tears filling his eyes. “I didn’t mean--”

 

“And the worst part is,” John began, breathing heavily, glaring at Sam, “that I should've known that it was going to happen.”

 

Sam frowned. “What?” he asked, confused.

 

“Anybody else would’ve had a problem with this because you two were related and it’s illegal,” John said. “I admit, that was hard to deal with. But dealing with this was harder. You two…when you two were young, you could barely stand each other as brothers. Did you really think it was going to be different when you became lovers?”

 

Dean looked up from the kitchen, taking the phone away from his ear for a moment, trying to listen to his father.

 

“I never expected you to last this long,” John continued, shaking his head. “I honestly didn’t. Over the years, since the beginning, that is why I never wanted to talk about it. Yes, my sons were fucking, but I didn’t think that you would make it more than a couple of years.”

 

Sam sniffled and dropped his head, clearing his throat. “Dad--”

 

“I love you, Samuel,” John interrupted, walking back over to the bed, “and Dean. You’re both my sons, and I want what’s best for both of you. I want you both to be happy. I didn’t think that this was best for you, and I knew that it wouldn’t-- it couldn’t keep you both happy for long.”

 

“That’s not true,” Sam muttered, shaking his head. “It isn’t. You’re lying. You didn’t think that. You never would’ve let us do this if you thought that.”

 

“Sammy, you’re brothers,” John said slowly. “Brothers aren’t supposed to be in love. You don’t know how to handle it. You’d both had one goddamn serious relationship in your life before each other. You honestly thought that this would work?”

 

Sam sniffled and nodded. “I did. I’d thought we’d love each forever. And Dean did too, he told me!”

 

John shook his head. “Sammy, if this makes you happy, I want you to do it. But you’re not happy anymore, are you?”

 

Sam swallowed hard. “I am happy,” he said quietly. “I thought he didn’t love me,” he said, voice breaking. “But he does! Or…he did. And that makes me happy. I want to be happy with him.”

 

John sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned over, ruffling Sam’s hair playfully. “All I’ve ever wanted is for you both to be happy. But now I have to think about Dylan too. Are you happy enough to make Dylan grow up in a broken home?”

 

Sam’s tears spilled over and he let out a broken sob, shaking his head. “We’re not broken. We’re just messed up. Dad, we can fix this! I swear. Just let us try. Let us make it through everything and just try. Please.”

 

John sighed and leaned in, pressing his lips to Sam’s forehead. “I love you, Sammy,” he said quietly, pulling back. “I really do.”

 

Sam nodded and swallowed hard. “Please, just let us try.”

 

* * * *

 

Sam stumbled out of the bedroom, pushing the door out of his way. He yawned and fixed his shirt, rubbing at his eyes. He walked into the kitchen, glancing over at the microwave for the time, realizing that it was the middle of the night. He sighed, scratching at his head, opening the refrigerator. He reached in and grabbed the orange juice, closing the door behind him.

 

“Sam.”

 

Sam gasped and jumped, almost dropping the carton. He looked over at the voice, letting out a sigh of relief. “Thank god, Dad,” Sam breathed, walking over to the counter. 

 

John smiled apologetically, going to the cupboards, taking out two glasses. “You sleep okay?”

 

Sam nodded before shrugging. “Yeah, I guess. Nice to be sleeping in my own bed, I guess. Kind of…hollow, though. Where’s Dean?”

 

“Sleeping with Dylan,” John replied, pouring his glass of juice. 

 

Sam nodded understandingly. He took a drink of his juice, swallowing hard. “What’d Bobby say?”

 

“He’s coming as soon as he can,” John answered. “Bringing as many books as he thinks we’ll need. We’re gonna beat him this time Sammy, I promise.”

 

Sam leaned against the counter, meeting his father’s eyes. “Dean knew, that Dylan wasn’t his. For four years he knew. He didn’t tell me. And I know that he wouldn’t be able to keep that in.” He drew a sharp breath. “He told you, didn’t he?”

 

John looked away from Sam, taking a drink, trying to think. “I knew,” he admitted, nodding.

 

Sam let out a broken sob and squeezed his eyes shut. He took a deep breath and nodded once, looking away from John. “Great.” He shook his head and started to walk away from John, through the kitchen. 

 

“It’s not like he told me though, Sam,” John began, reaching out for Sam, following after him. “I was there when he found out.”

 

Sam turned back to John. “Why didn’t you tell me? Dylan is my son, and you didn’t think I would find it important? Dad, Dyl-- he isn’t Dean’s! He’s not his son! Why did nobody think that I should know?”

 

“Sam, Dean begged me not to tell you,” John answered. “I wanted to Sam, I thought that you deserved to know, but it wasn’t my problem. My secret. It was Dean’s. I think he was going to tell you eventually, when the time was right.”

 

“Why did everybody get mad at me, when I lied,” Sam began, wiping tears off his cheeks, “when everybody’s been lying to me about my son for almost five years! 

 

“Why aren’t you talking to Dean about this?” John asked, ignoring Sam’s question.

 

“Because we’re not talking about anything right now!” Sam cried. “At all! He’s sleeping with Dylan to get away from me! I had to almost die for him to give me more than five minutes. He hates me. He’s had years to deal with this, he doesn’t care about what I think about it. Not now. Not ever, probably. You were right, we’re not happy. And we all know I’m only here because of what happened.”

 

“Sam, you know that’s not true,” John said quietly, dropping his eyes.

 

Sam shook his head as he tried to fight the tears springing to his eyes. “I messed up, Dad,” he said, voice breaking. “I know I did. I know it, and I apologized but-- but it’s not enough. Of course it’s not enough. Can’t you talk to him for me?”

 

John shook his head. He opened his mouth to speak before hearing something behind them, looking over Sam’s shoulder as Sam turned around. 

 

Dean walked slowly though the living room, over to them, hair pushed up awkwardly. “What’s going on?” he asked, yawning loudly, stretching his arms above his head. “Everything okay?”

 

John sighed and shifted on his feet, walking by Sam and Dean. “I’m going to down to go back to sleep, with Dylan. You two figure this out.” He disappeared down the dark hallway.

 

“What’s he talking about?” Dean asked, watching John walk away. “Why were you yelling?”

 

Sam shook his head, setting his glass down on the table. “I’m going back to bed.”

 

“Why were you yelling?” Dean asked again, following Sam. “You could’ve woken up Dylan.”

 

Sam shrugged, flicking on the bedroom lights. “Whatever. I don’t-- I don’t care. I-- I have to go.”

 

“Go where?” Dean asked, watching Sam walk over to his duffel bag, leaning down to check what he had left in his bag.

 

“Anywhere but here,” Sam replied, gasping in pain, grabbing onto his stomach as he lifted his duffel. “We both know that if I hadn’t been attacked, I wouldn’t be back here. And Dad-- Dad talked to me earlier and he had some really good points.”

 

“Sam, you’re hurt,” Dean pointed out, walking over to Sam. “Let me take care of you.”

 

Sam snorted and rolled his eyes. “That’s rich, Dean. You don’t have that great of a reach. You don't want to take care of me, this is the closest you’ve been to me since we got here. It’s not like I can complain though, I think I got what I deserved.”

 

“You think you deserved to be gutted?” Dean asked in surprise. “Sam, that’s-- Sam, I’m just trying to adjust here, you have to give me a bit.”

 

Sam shook his head. “I can’t. I don’t deserve it. I’m the one who can’t adjust here, Dean. This is your little world now, with Dylan, and all your secrets. I don’t fit in.” He leaned down again, groaning when his stitches pulled. He rubbed his stomach again, glancing back at Dean. “I’m fine,” he said, before Dean could jump in.

 

“Sam, you’re still hurt,” Dean said quietly, reaching out to Sam, “you shouldn’t be alone right now. Especially with Rosier out there. You have to stay.”

 

“You don’t want me here,” Sam sighed, trying to pull his shirt off.

 

“Let me help you,” Dean said, rushing to Sam’s side, grasping onto the hem of Sam’s t-shirt. “Off or on?”

 

“Well I’m already wearing it, Dean,” Sam pointed out, rolling his eyes.

 

Dean slowly pulled Sam’s shirt off, moving to examine Sam’s stitches, before Sam turned away. He watched Sam move, pulling on another shirt, taking a deep breath. “I don’t want you to go,” he said finally, when Sam turned to face him. “Okay? Are you happy now? I don’t want you to go. Is that good enough?”

 

“It’s not about it being good enough!” Sam cried. “I don’t want you to say it Dean, I want you to mean it. And I know that you don’t. You can’t. I sure as hell wouldn’t. I just want us to get fucking mad at each other and just kick each others asses. You’re mad at me, and I’m mad at you. Just hit me already.”

 

“You want me to beat you up?” Dean asked. 

 

“Yeah, I think I do,” Sam nodded jerkily. “You yelled, and you threw my phone but then you just stopped talking. I know you hate me Dean, and I want you to get it out. Get it out so that we can move on.”

 

Dean shook his head in disbelief. “Go back to bed, Sam. We’ll talk in the morning.”

 

“Except that we won’t!” Sam exclaimed. “We’ve had days to talk, and we’re not.” He dropped his bag and walked by Dean, going out into the living room, flopping down on the couch, grabbing the remote. He turned on the television, turning it down as to not disturb John and Dylan anymore.

 

Dean watched Sam, leaning against the doorframe, trying to think, trying to figure what to do with the situation. He walked into the living room and sat down on the couch by Sam. 

 

Sam didn’t even look over at Dean, just settled into the couch, finding some late-night infomercial. He set the remote down, fixing his sweats. He swallowed before yawning softly, sinking into the cushions.

 

Dean looked over at Sam before bringing his legs up onto the couch, lying down, resting his head on Sam’s thigh. “I’m sorry that I made you think I didn’t love you,” he said quietly, watching the television.

 

Sam dropped his eyes and reached out, running his fingers through Dean’s hair. “I’m sorry that for a second, I really didn’t.”

 

Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath, snuggling into Sam.

 

* * * *

 

Dean jerked awake when he heard something heavy drop to the floor. He looked around the living room before lifting his head, seeing Sam still asleep beneath him. He smiled softly and reached out to trail his fingers over Sam’s arm before he heard someone clearing his throat. He looked up and jerked his hand away. “Bobby!” he exclaimed, pushing himself up.

 

Bobby smiled and nodded, reaching his hand out to Dean. “How you doing, boy?”

 

Dean shook his hand, smiling at Bobby. “Better. What about you?”

 

“I’m fine,” Bobby nodded. “I’m surprised your father lets you sleep in this late.”

 

Dean looked around, glancing down at Bobby’s watch. “Oh, uh, yeah. Oh wait, did somebody take Dylan to school?”

 

“It’s Sunday, Dean,” Bobby reminded him.

 

“Oh, right,” Dean said slowly, nodding. “I uh, forgot, I guess.” He smiled and looked past Bobby, into the kitchen. “What was the sound that woke me up?”

 

“Books,” John replied, walking into the living room, wiping dust off his hands. “Bobby brought ‘em. We’ve gotta figure out what’s going to work this time.”

 

“Where’s Dylan?” Dean asked, smiling down at Sam when he stirred on the couch.

 

“Paula called this morning,” John began, “and she asked if Dylan could go over to play with Cillian. I figured it’d be easier with him over there, so I-- I let him. I hope that’s okay.”

 

Dean nodded. “Yeah, sure, of course it is. You’re right, probably safer or easier, I guess. Better.” He sighed and moved to shove his hands into his pockets, before he realized he wasn’t wearing pants, just his boxers. “I’m gonna go get dressed,” he smiled, walking by John and Bobby.

 

John sighed and wiped his hands off again, rubbing them on his jeans. He leaned down a bit, smiling. “Sam.”

 

Sam gasped and jerked, eyes opening. He took a deep breath, looking up at John. “Hi Dad.”

 

Bobby laughed softly, shaking his head.

 

Sam jumped and looked over at Bobby in surprise. “Oh, hey Bobby. When you’d get here?”

 

“A couple hours ago,” Bobby replied, reaching down to give Sam his hand, helping him sit up. 

 

Sam rubbed at his stomach as he sat up, looking down to realize that Dean had moved from the couch. He sighed sadly, before he felt John’s hand on his shoulder. 

 

“He’s getting dressed,” John said softly.

 

Sam nodded and stood up, fixing his clothes. “What time is it?”

 

“Two forty-three,” Bobby replied, looking at his watch. 

 

“Where’s Dylan?” Sam asked, shifting on his feet, looking past John and Bobby.

 

“At Paula’s for the day,” John answered.

 

“Oh,” Sam nodded. “O-- okay.” He looked around awkwardly, trying to smile at Bobby and John. “I’m just-- I’m gonna go--” he walked by John and Bobby and knocked lightly at the bedroom door, before pushing it open.

 

Dean lifted his head and smiled over at Sam, pulling on his jeans. “See you woke up.”

 

Sam nodded and stepped in, closing the door behind him. He looked around the room, seeing his duffel bag on the bed. “Oh, I-- I should probably…put that away,” he finished softly, walking over to the bed. He lifted his bag and swallowed hard as he walked by Dean, setting it back down by the closet. He reached up and ran his fingers through his hair, making a face. “Gross,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “I’ve gotta have a shower.” He pulled off his t-shirt and dropped it onto the floor, pushing open the bathroom door.

 

“Uh…need any help?” Dean called after him, dropping his head while he waited for Sam to answer. “I mean, with the stitches and everything…”

 

Sam smiled as he pushed his sweats down, stepping out of them. “I think that’s okay, Dean,” he replied, reaching in to turn on the shower. “But when I’m done…”

 

“Yeah?” Dean asked, appearing in the doorway.

 

“Can we do something?” Sam asked, letting the water run down onto his hand. “Like-- like a walk or something? Or a quick lunch? I just…I just wanna be with-- around you right now.”

 

Dean nodded. “Yeah, of course. That sounds nice.” He smiled and pulled the bathroom door closed behind him, leaving Sam alone.

 

Sam grinned and pulled his hand out of the water, pushing his boxers down before stepping into the tub, pulling the shower curtain closed behind him.

 

Dean walked out of the bedroom, nodding at Bobby and John, sitting at the dining table. “So what’s going on?” he asked, sniffing the air for coffee.

 

“With what?” John asked, nodding towards the counter.

 

Dean picked up his mug of coffee and sat down at the table, taking a drink. “Well, you brought all those books Bobby. Anything in ‘em?”

 

“Well what do you wanna know?” Bobby asked gruffly, picking up his own mug.

 

“Why can’t he find Dylan?” Dean asked. 

 

“I’m glad you asked an easy one,” Bobby said, trying to attempt some happiness. “As long as Sam is alive, this guy has no claim to Dylan. Sam’s his mother, and Dylan stays with him. He can’t find Dylan if Sam is still around. That’s why he tried to kill him.”

 

“So what should we do?” Dean asked, taking another drink of coffee. “Split them up?”

 

John cleared his throat, shaking his head. “You’re gonna have a hard time explaining to Dylan why his mommy has gone away again.”

 

Dean took a deep breath, shaking his head. “Sam and I are going out. When he gets out of the shower. Just…just figure out what we’re going to do. Please. I want this over as soon as possible; there are other things I wanna deal with right now.” He pushed his chair back and stood up, taking his mug with him.

 

Bobby turned to face John, reaching up to fix his hat. “You got anybody else you wanna call in for this, John?”

 

John shook his head. “No. You’re the best I got, Bobby. Just show to me to the right books.”

 

* * * *

 

Dean reached up and scratched at his neck, looking ahead at Sam. “Hey, slow down a bit,” he joked, taking a couple quick steps to catch up with him.

 

Sam took a deep breath, holding it in for a moment, before exhaling. “I love the smell of fall.”

 

“You’re the only person I know who can smell the seasons, Sam,” Dean smiled, even as he began taking deeper breaths. “I smell leaves.”

 

“It’s crisp,” Sam said. “The air. I always loved it.” He smiled at Dean, who was watching him. “What?”

 

Dean shrugged and reached out, taking Sam’s hand in his. “Just nice to get our minds off of everything.”

 

“There’s a lot to take our minds off of,” Sam said quietly, looking down at their hands. “Um…this-- how long do you think this is going to take? With Rosier?”

 

Dean shrugged. “I have no idea. I mean, last time, we took care of him like that,” he snapped his fingers, “but we obviously didn’t do it right. He wants Dylan, and as long as you’re around, he can’t get him. We have time. And we’re not alone this time.”

 

Sam nodded. “Yeah. Bobby knows what he’s doing. I just kind of want…”

 

“Dad and Bobby gone?” Dean asked.

 

“Yeah,” Sam admitted, laughing softly. “I don’t know though. It’ll be weird.”

 

Dean nodded. “Yeah,” he breathed, squeezing Sam’s hand reassuringly. “I…I think we’ll make it though.” He cleared his throat and looked ahead, squaring his shoulders. “I know we will.”

 

Sam smiled weakly, letting Dean lead him across the street. “I’m sorry, Dean.”

 

Dean nodded. “Yeah, I know. You told me.” He looked up at Sam. “And yeah, I believe you.”

 

Sam smiled, letting out a deep breath. “Thank you,” he said quietly. He looked down at the ground, watching his feet, before looking up when he felt something wet fall onto the back of his neck. He frowned and lifted his head, wondering if Dean had spit on him.

 

“It’s raining,” Dean explained, looking up towards the sky. He shook his head and slipped his hand out of Sam’s, wrapping his arms around himself. “Come on, it’s gonna get cold soon. Last thing you need is pneumonia.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes and stopped walking for a moment, opening his mouth.

 

“Sam, that’s gross,” Dean muttered, glancing back at him.

 

Sam grinned and laughed, walking to catch up with Dean. “You used to do it all the time.”

 

“Before I hit puberty,” Dean pointed out.

 

Sam laughed again and wrapped his arm around Dean’s shoulders, keeping him close. “It’s just a little rain, Dean. And a little rain never hurt anybody before.” He turned his head and kissed Dean’s temple. “We going home?”

 

Dean looked up at Sam, frowning. “You really wanna walk around in the rain?”

 

Sam shrugged. “It’s just like a shower. But cold.”

 

Dean snorted and laughed, shaking his head. “You’re an idiot, Sammy.” He laughed again and unwrapped his arms from himself, running ahead of Sam, arms in the air. “Fine! Are you happy? I’m out in the rain!” He skipped a couple times before Sam began laughing at him and he stopped, walking back to Sam. “How was that for you?”

 

Sam grinned and reached out, shoving Dean playfully. “You’re the idiot. You’re gonna get pneumonia.” He laughed and turned and began running back up the sidewalk.

 

Dean laughed and followed after him, trying not to slip on the wet concrete.

 

* * * *

 

Dylan ran into the house, wet sneakers squeaking on the floor. “Uncle Bobby!” he yelled, stopping at the dining table. “What are you doing here?”

 

Bobby closed his book and took off his hat, reaching down to shake Dylan’s hand, before ruffling his hair. “Just helping your parents with something. What’s going on? How was your day away?”

 

“Fun,” Dylan answered, bouncing up and down on his feet. “We played all day. And went out for lunch.” He looked over at Sam, who was still reading from one of the books. He walked up and tried to push himself up onto Sam’s lap. “What are you reading?”

 

Sam helped Dylan climb up onto his lap, kissing his cheek. “A really old textbook.”

 

Dylan tried to read the pages, mouthing the words to himself silently. “It’s not right.”

 

“Hmm?” Sam asked, scanning the Latin in front of him. “What do you mean?”

 

“They’re not real words,” Dylan replied. “I don’t know any of them.”

 

“It’s not our language, Dyl,” Sam explained. “You read English. This is Latin. It’s really old, not a lot of people speak it anymore.”

 

Dylan sighed and leaned back against Sam’s chest, still trying to read the words. “Will I have to learn it?”

 

“We all know it,” Bobby said, getting Dylan’s attention on him. “Me, your parents, your grandfather. It’s not that bad.”

 

Dylan sighed and picked at the page in front of him, looking up at Sam. “Where are Daddy and Grampie?”

 

“Living room, Dyl!” Dean called, leaning back on the couch.

 

“What are they doing?” Dylan asked.

 

“Same as us,” Sam replied.

 

Dylan groaned and pushed himself off Sam’s lap, dropping down to the floor. “But that’s boring. I wanna play with somebody. Can one of you stop?”

 

Bobby lifted his head and sighed, closing his book. “Come on DJ, show me your room.” He stood up and let Dylan grab onto his arm, leading him out of the dining room and through the living room, down the hallway to his bedroom.

 

Sam picked up his book and walked into the living room, sitting down as Dean lifted his head.

 

“Does longer mean better?” Dean asked, showing John an incantation in the book that was only a couple lines long. “I mean, does shorter still work?”

 

“It all works, Dean,” John said flatly, flipping a page in his own book. “Or else it wouldn’t be in here.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes and looked over at Sam, half smiling. “You remember what we did the first time?”

 

Sam didn’t even look up, just flipped the page. “Is this an actual question or a like, let’s share a memory moment?”

 

“No, it’s an actual question,” Dean replied. “Cause even though it didn’t really work, it worked for more than six years. And I think that’s long enough for us to figure out how to actually stop him.”

 

Sam shook his head. “I think we just used the basic exorcism. It wasn’t rocket science.”

 

“Maybe it should’ve been,” John muttered, scanning the page in front of him.

 

Sam and Dean both looked over at John in surprise.

 

“What?” John asked, closing his book. “I’m not blaming you two, but this is insane. It should’ve worked.”

 

Sam opened his mouth to speak but Dean just raised his hand, cutting Sam off. “Dad, we tried. We had no idea what we were getting into, okay? If we did, we--”

 

“We wouldn’t have Dylan,” Sam murmured.

 

“Good point,” Dean said. “But Dad, we didn’t know that we had met some fallen angel or whatever. We thought he was just some idiot demon, and we’ve taken down a million of those before.”

 

John shook his head, opening another book. “Just look for something with forever in it.”

 

Bobby sat down on Dylan’s bed, shifting back and forth. “This is pretty…neat room, DJ. Has it been like this since you were a baby?”

 

Dylan nodded. “I think so. I don’t remember it being different. How long are you staying for?”

 

Bobby shrugged. “I do not know, DJ. At least for tonight I’d have to say. Why? You want me gone already?” He reached out to lightly, playfully shove Dylan.

 

Dylan laughed and shook his head. “I like having you around. You’re cooler than Mommy and Daddy.”

 

Bobby snorted and laughed. “Doesn’t take much, DJ. Trust me. Give it a couple years, you’ll see it too.”

 

“Do you wanna play something?” Dylan asked, trying to spin on his feet. 

 

“Uh, like…Barbie?” Bobby asked, eyes going wide.

 

“What’s Barbie?” Dylan asked. “I don’t think I have that. But I think I have something.”

 

“Sure,” Bobby nodded, yawning softly, stretching his arms. “Whatever you got is good.”

 

Dylan walked around his bed and lifted the top on his toy chest, looking inside. “I don’t think I have anything you’d like.”

 

“Well, let me just get a look,” Bobby said, standing up, kneeling down beside Dylan and his toy chest. “Okay, let’s see what we’ve got.” He reached in, pulling out a box. “Well what’s this DJ?”

 

“‘My First Science Kit’,” Dylan read, examining the box. “I don’t really know what’s in it.”

 

“Maybe for later,” Bobby said, setting the box down. “What’s this? ‘Bunny Hop Game’? Do you play this?” He showed Dylan the box.

 

“We tried once,” Dylan began, taking the box from Bobby, “but I couldn’t understand the rules, so Mommy put it away.”

 

“You wanna try it?” Bobby asked, sitting down on the floor.

 

Dylan shrugged. “Okay. I guess. But it’s hard.” He sat down across from Bobby and helped him open the box, taking out the game board before reaching in to grab some of the plastic bunnies. “Gus!” he exclaimed, pushing himself up. “I didn’t show you Gus!” He ran over to the doorway. “Mommy?”

 

Sam lifted his head, looking towards the hallway. “Yeah?”

 

“Can I take out Gus to show Uncle Bobby?” Dylan called.

 

“Sure!” Sam called back. “Just be careful! Hold him like I showed you!”

 

“Kay!” Dylan walked over to Gus’s cage and opened the top, glancing back to smile at Bobby. “I got Gus when I was…three.”

 

“I think your parents told me you were still two,” Bobby said, walking over to Dylan. “Need help getting him out?”

 

Dylan shook his head as he reached into the cage, sliding one hand under Gus, one hand on his back, and he lifted him out of the cage. “This is Gus.”

 

“Wow,” Bobby nodded, studying the rabbit. “I would’ve figured your parents for more a canine group of people. Gus, is it?”

 

Dylan nodded, petting Gus’s back. “You wanna hold him?” he asked, holding Gus up. “It isn’t hard, even Grampie does it.” He began laughing. “Once, Gus pooed on him. Isn’t that funny?”

 

Bobby chuckled and nodded nervously. “Oh, hilarious. He ain’t gonna do it on me, is he?”

 

Dylan shook his head, holding Gus up a bit higher. “I don’t think so. It was only that once.”

 

Bobby took a deep breath and placed his hand under Dylan, nodding at Dylan to slide his hand out from under Gus. Then Dylan lifted his hand and Bobby placed his hand on Gus’s back, lifting him up a little. “He’s a pretty big bunny for such a little kid like you, DJ.”

 

“I used to be even littler,” Dylan said solemnly. “I think Gus is the same size as when I got him.”

 

Bobby pet Gus gently, watching his little nose twitch. “You ever gonna get a girl bunny?”

 

Dylan shook his head. “Mommy and Daddy said that they would have a lot of babies that we have no room for.”

 

Bobby smiled. “I cannot wait for the sex talk from those two,” he murmured, scratching Gus behind his ears. “He was your first pet?”

 

Dylan nodded. “Yeah. I picked him out. And named him,” he said proudly. He reached up and scratched Gus’s head. “Do you like him?”

 

“Uh…” Bobby began, frowning down at the rabbit. “Yeah, sure, I guess. No less than any other bunny I’ve ever met.” He handed Gus back to Dylan, smiling down at him.

 

Dylan turned and carefully put Gus back in his cage, closing it. “Okay, we can play now.”

 

Dean closed his book, shaking his head, stretching his arms above his head. “This is crazy,” he muttered. “I’ve never actually sat down and read these books before.”

 

Sam looked over at Dean, biting the inside of his lip. He yawned and closed his book too, pushing himself up off the floor. He smiled at John and Dean as he walked out of the living room, going into the kitchen. He began humming to himself softly, grabbing a glass from the cupboard, turning on the tap. He waited for the water to cool. “You guys want something?” he called.

 

“No!” John and Dean called back at the same time.

 

Sam sighed and stuck his fingers under the water, letting it run for a couple more minutes. He heard something creak behind him and he lifted his head, frowning at his reflection in the window, before his eyes opened wide. He opened his mouth to yell but Rosier’s hand covered it instantly, his other arm wrapping around Sam’s neck, squeezing the air out. Sam gasped and squeezed his eyes shut, kicking his foot, hitting the counter.

 

“Sam?” Dean asked, lifting his head, looking back into the kitchen. “Sam!” He shot up and began to run towards Sam, before Rosier looked up and Dean flew back against the couch.

 

John stood up quickly and ran down the hallway into Dylan’s room. “Bobby, he’s here.” He leaned down and wrapped his arms around Dylan, lifting him up. 

 

Bobby ran out of the room and down the hallway, looking into the kitchen. “Sam!” he yelled. Then he noticed Dean and he ran over, helping Dean up.

 

Sam gasped and tried to wiggle out of Rosier’s grip, which was tightening. “He’s…mine,” he gritted, stomping on Rosier’s foot.

 

“That’s why I have to do this,” Rosier said softly. He moved his hands to twist Sam’s neck before Sam got the advantage and threw his head back, hitting Rosier in the face. Sam fell down to the floor and he began crawling away quickly, before pushing himself up. "I can't get him till you're gone."

 

John grabbed as many toys out of Dylan’s toy chest as he could and swiped them under Dylan’s bed, before helping Dylan climb into the toy chest. “Do not come out, Dylan. No matter what, okay?”

 

Dylan nodded, tears shining in his eyes as John closed the top. He wrapped his arms around himself in the dark and tried to ignore the toys that were digging into his body.

 

John ran out of the room and down the hall, grabbing one of the books, flipping the pages. He found the words he was looking for quickly and tossed the book to Dean.

 

“Is he here?” Rosier demanded, reaching his hand out, jerking Sam back to him.

 

“Leave us alone,” Sam clenched, fingers trying to dig into the floor as Rosier used his powers to drag Sam back to him. “He’s mine!” 

 

“Where is he?” Rosier yelled, looking up as he heard the beginnings of Latin from the living room. 

 

Sam shook his head, staring at Rosier. “You’ll have to kill me.”

 

Rosier smirked and directed his hand to the wall, where Sam promptly flew. “That can be arranged.”

 

“Ego redimio vos ex vulnero meus filius,” Dean began, words shaky, head and body aching. “Ego redimio vos ex recidivus ex Abyssus. Excedo.”

 

“You’re not going to get him,” Sam said, shaking his head. “He’s not yours. We won’t let you.” He tried to push himself up just as Rosier dropped down to his knees. He groaned when he felt a pressure on his chest.

 

“You could come with us,” Rosier said softly, eyes flashing and he doubled over in pain.

 

“…quod exsisto sent tenus Abyssus. Operor non reverto. Nunquam reverto,” Dean continued as he pushed himself up, ignoring the pain in his ribs. He glanced back at John and Bobby, who were standing by, watching carefully, unsure of what to do. He began walking slowly, glancing up from the pages to watch Rosier and Sam. “Igneus intus vorago sae abyssus incendia.”

 

“You’re powerful too, Sam,” Rosier persisted. “Dylan trusts you. I don’t have to do this.”

 

Sam looked up as the lights in the house began to flicker before just shutting off, leaving the house in darkness with rain clouds instead of sunlight outside. He could still see the outline of Rosier and wondered how much of him Rosier could see. He swallowed hard and began to slowly inch away from where he was, trying to get away from Rosier.

 

Dean squinted in the dark, trying to read the Latin words on the page. “Vos mos…sub-- subsisto…shit.” He ran over to one of the windows, trying to get any light that he could on the page. “Subsisto pro infinitio.” 

 

Sam scurried away from Rosier, still on the floor, trying to stay in the shadows. He watched Dean at the window, still struggling to read from the textbook.

 

“Give me a book,” Bobby commanded, nudging John.

 

“Why?” John asked, glancing at Bobby.

 

Bobby groaned and grabbed a book, flipping through the pages. “If Dean can’t finish his, or it doesn’t work, I want a back up.” He moved to the living room window and began studying the pages.

 

John watched Bobby and listened to Dean, before he grabbed a book, moving to the window beside Bobby.

 

“Exuro Rosier, exuro. Exuro intus incendia sae abyssus.” Dean could barely read the words in the dark, but at the same time, he could barely help his relief at being so close to beating Rosier.

 

Rosier gasped and reached out for Sam, finally realizing that Sam had moved. “Come on, Sam! Don’t do this!” As Rosier groaned in pain, he raised his hand, and he smirked when he heard Sam cry out. He screamed loudly in pain, reaching up to clutch at his head. “It won’t work, Dean!”

 

“Yes it will!” Dean screamed back at the top of his lungs. “Subsisto absentis. Per is, vos ero absentis.”

 

“Stop it!” Rosier yelled, pushing himself up, running over to Dean. “Stop it!” He tried to knock the book out of Dean’s hands but Dean jerked out of the way, throwing himself off balance, falling to the ground.

 

“Absum!” Dean yelled, trying to read the next two words in the dark.

 

Rosier growled and dropped down to the floor, breathing heavily. “I can give you what you want…if you let me take what I want.” He grabbed the book out of Dean’s hands and tossed it aside. “Give me Dylan, and I won’t kill you. Or Sam. And I can give you another child.” He raised his hand, which had begun to give off a slight reddish glow. “I just have to touch you.”

 

Sam’s eyes widened and he darted out of his hiding place in the shadows and grabbed the textbook, pushing himself out of the way quickly. “Pro infinitio!” he yelled, watching as the reddish glow spread from Rosier’s hand through all of his body.

 

Rosier screamed and pushed himself up, clutching at his head. It was only a second before his body burst into an explosion of red, small lights floating in the air before they disappeared, leaving the house dark again, and in complete silence, except for all of their heavy breathing.

 

Dean swallowed hard and lifted his head, looking over at Sam. He smiled weakly before pushing himself up, moving across the floor. “Sammy,” he said weakly, throwing his arms around Sam’s neck.

 

Sam nodded and hugged Dean back, squeezing him gently as Dean groaned softly in pain. “I think we did it.”

 

Bobby smiled and nodded, closing his book.

 

John set his own book down and glanced back down the hallway, eyes opening up wide. He ran down the hallway and pushed the bedroom door open, skidding across the floor as he dropped to the toy chest, opening it slowly. “It’s okay, Dylan, it’s me, it’s Grampie. It’s okay.”

 

Dylan reached out of the toy chest, crying as he wrapped his arms around John’s neck and John wrapped his arms around Dylan, lifting him out. He sniffled and buried his face in John’s chest, sobbing into his shirt.

 

John stood up slowly and walked out of the bedroom and down the hall, carrying Dylan past Bobby and into the kitchen, kneeling down. “It’s okay, Dylan.”

 

Dylan unwrapped himself from John and reached up, wiping at his eyes. “Daddy,” he cried, practically throwing himself at Sam and Dean, wrapping an arm around Dean’s neck. “Mommy,” he whined, glancing back at Sam.

 

Dean hugged Dylan close to him and Sam moved in, wrapping his arms around both of them, holding them close.

 

John nodded and wiped at his eyes, pushing himself back up. He sighed and sat down at the dining table, slumping against the chair tiredly. “It’s over,” he said softly, nodding at Sam and Dean.

 

Dean and Sam both grinned, Dean giving Dylan a kiss, Sam looking into the living room at Bobby, nodding his head at him.

 

Bobby tipped his hat at him, smiling back.

 

* * * *

 

Sam swung his and Dylan’s arms back and forth, looking around the neighbourhood. He laughed as Dylan jumped into one of the puddles on the sidewalk, squeezing his hand gently.

 

“So how do you like those new rain boots?” Dean asked, zipping his jacket up a bit.

 

“They’re cool,” Dylan nodded, looking up at Dean.

 

“Cool,” Dean smiled, reaching down to ruffle Dylan’s hair.

 

“Can we go to the park?” Dylan asked, looking up at his parents.

 

Dean shook his head. “I think it’s a little too wet for that today, Dylan. Maybe once it dries up, okay?”

 

“Kay,” Dylan agreed. 

 

Sam and Dean looked over at each other, Dean nodding once. Sam cleared his throat and looked down at Dylan. “Dyl, do you have anything you wanna ask me and Daddy about what happened the other day?”

 

“When Grampie put me in the toy chest?” Dylan asked, lifting his head.

 

“Yeah,” Sam nodded. “When Grampie put you in the toy chest.”

 

Dylan thought for a moment before shaking his head. “I think I figured it out.”

 

“Oh yeah, Dylan?” Dean asked, smiling softly. “What’d you figure out?”

 

“Mommy was hurt,” Dylan began, letting go of Sam’s hand to scratch at his behind. “And then-- then Daddy said he was going to take care of me. I think Grampie just did it instead.”

 

Dean grinned. “So that’s it? You don’t want to ask anything?”

 

Dylan shook his head. “I…was there somebody else there? I heard you yell, and Mommy yelled, and I heard somebody else.”

 

Sam took a deep breath and nodded, looking over at Dean. He crouched down in front of Dylan, smiling at him. “Yeah, there was somebody else there. The man that hurt Mommy.”

 

“Why did he do that?” Dylan asked, looking down at his boots. “He sounds mean.”

 

“He was,” Sam nodded, “and I don’t want to scare you Dylan, but I think that he was there for y--”

 

Dean cleared his throat and shook his head.

 

“He was there for me,” Sam corrected, looking up at Dean. “He wanted to hurt me again. But he’s gone.”

 

“Yeah?” Dylan asked.

 

“Sure is, kiddo,” Dean nodded. “He’s not coming back.”

 

“Good,” Dylan said softly, looking up at Dean, then looking ahead at Sam. “I’m okay.”

 

Sam grinned and leaned in, kissing Dylan’s forehead. “Good. You were a little scared though, weren’t ya?” Dylan nodded as Sam straightened up. “I’m sorry you were scared, Dyl.”

 

Dylan shrugged as they all continued walking. “I’m okay,” he said again.

 

Dean smiled and looked over at Sam, tongue coming out to wet his lips. “Dylan, can we stop walking again for a sec? Me and Mommy gotta do something.”

 

Sam frowned and looked over at Dean, who was smiling at him.

 

“Okay,” Dylan said, running a couple feet away to jump into another puddle, laughing loudly.

 

“What do we gotta do?” Sam asked, walking over to Dean. “Talk about Dylan behind his back?”

 

Dean laughed softly, shaking his head. “Just…just something that we haven’t done in a few weeks.” He cleared his throat softly and began leaning in.

 

Sam’s tongue instantly came out to wet his lips and he leaned in, their lips almost together when Sam whispered, “I’m sorry.”

 

Dean smiled against Sam’s lips and tilted his head upwards, pressing their lips together. He reached up, lightly entangling his fingers in Sam’s hair, pulling him in closer. He pulled back, lips sticking together slightly. “I forgive you.” He looked up, meeting Sam’s eyes. “And I do mean it this time. But Sam…” he sighed and shook his head. “I can’t-- I don’t-- I forgive you, but it’s not the same, you know. It’ll never be the same again.”

 

Sam nodded. “I know. And I’m truly sorry for that.”

 

Dean nodded once. “And I’m sorry too. I should’ve told you. Years ago, I should’ve told you.”

 

“I forgive you,” Sam breathed, smiling softly.

 

Dean kissed Sam again but he had to pull back from laughter when he heard Dylan make a noise of disgust. He looked down and Sam laughed softly, shaking his head. “Come on, you big lug. I think we may have a kid to take care of.” He moved to walk over to Dylan, but Sam grabbed onto his jacket sleeve. “Yeah?”

 

“So…” Sam shifted awkwardly, not sure how to phrase what he was about to say. “Dylan…not being yours…”

 

“It doesn’t change anything,” Dean assured him, nodding his head slowly. “He’s mine. He always has been. I swear. I’ve never treated him any different for it and I never will.”

 

Sam nodded jerkily. “Okay.” He let go of Dean’s sleeve.

 

“Does it change anything for you?” Dean asked suddenly.

 

Sam shook his head, smiling at Dean. “Are you kidding? He’s ours. He always has been.”

 

Dean smiled and reached out, linking his fingers with Sam. “Dylan! Do not pick up that worm!”

 

“But Daddy, look it!” Dylan said, lifting his hand up to Dean, the worm wiggling in his hand.

 

“I see it,” Dean assured him reaching out to ruffle Dylan’s hair again. 

 

“Can I keep it?” Dylan asked eagerly.

 

Dean glanced over at Sam, who was grinning. “Yeah, okay, fine,” he said finally. 

 

Dylan grinned and looked down at the worm in his hand as he continued walking.

 

“But you keep it outside,” Dean finished.

 

Sam rolled his eyes and laughed softly. “Just keep it away from Gus, Dyl. That bunny looks like he’d have a jealous streak. Something in his eyes.”


	12. Chapter 12

Title: Look What Love Has Done - Volume 3 - Chapter 12

Pairing: Sam/Dean

Disclaimer: Not mine

Rating: NC-17 this chapter

Summary: It's Halloween, and instead of going out, Dean wants him and Sam to finally get some much needed alone time

Author's Note: Forget volume one, forget volume two; this is volume three 

 

five years, six months and nineteen days old

 

Dean leaned down and spit into the sink, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He straightened back up and jerked a little in surprise when he saw Sam standing behind him. “What’s going on?”

 

Sam shook his head, and stepped closer to Dean, wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist, nuzzling the back of his neck. “How are you?”

 

Dean’s eyes closed and his body stiffened at Sam’s touch, still not used to it after it being gone for as long as it was. “Fine,” he replied eventually, sticking the toothbrush back in his mouth. “Just getting ready to for work.”

 

“How much longer?” Sam asked, setting his chin on Dean’s shoulder. 

 

“Couple minutes,” Dean assured him, spitting in the sink again.

 

Sam kissed Dean’s cheek and unwrapped himself from him, walking back into the bedroom. “Dylan’s really excited for tonight, you know.”

 

Dean nodded and put his toothbrush away, leaning against the doorframe. “Yeah well, it’s his first trick-or-treating.” He walked into the bedroom and pulled on a t-shirt, glancing up at Sam. “I uh…I talked to Todd.”

 

“Yeah?” Sam asked, grabbing his jeans from the bed. “What about?”

 

Dean grabbed his belt and sighed, watching Sam pull his jeans on. “About tonight.”

 

“Oh, can Danny not go?” Sam asked, lifting his head. “That sucks, Dylan’s gonna be so disappointed.”

 

Dean shook his head and stood up. “No, no it’s not that. But…Todd offered to take them for us.”

 

Sam frowned. “Why?” he asked, walking out of the bedroom.

 

Dean groaned and pushed himself up, following behind Sam. “Can you just like, stop moving for a second?”

 

“If we stop moving, Dylan’s gonna be late for school,” Sam pointed out, glancing into the living room. “Dylan! Come on!”

 

“Just a sec!” Dylan called from his room.

 

Dean sighed and stepped closer to Sam, looking up at him. “Todd knows…what you did. And he knows that we haven’t had anytime to just, be alone since everything. He offered to take Dylan trick-or-treating so that we can have some alone time.”

 

“Kay,” Dylan said, pulling on his backpack. “We can go now.”

 

Sam looked at Dean in surprise, mouth open but not quite sure what to say. “Uh yeah, Dylan…let’s go.” He reached out for Dylan’s hand and began leading him towards the door.

 

“Come on, Sam,” Dean said, following behind them. “I just-- you don’t think that we need time to just…be? We need to talk.”

 

“We can talk about this later, Dean,” Sam said, opening the door. “Not in front of Dylan.”

 

“What not in front of Dylan?” Dylan asked, looking up at Sam as they stepped outside. 

 

“Nothing, Dyl,” Sam said, ruffling Dylan’s hair. “Everything’s good. What are you guys doing in class today?”

 

Dylan shrugged as he pulled open the back door. “I think we get candy.”

 

“Well, not too much, Dylan,” Sam said, reaching in to help Dylan with his booster seat. “You’re gonna be getting a lot tonight.”

 

“Kay,” Dylan nodded. 

 

Sam climbed into the car and looked over at Dean, who was drumming his fingers on his leg. “Dean, it’s just--”

 

“It’s just whatever, Sam,” Dean interrupted, not even lifting his head. “I just-- I don’t want it to happen again.”

 

Sam looked in the rear view mirror and began pulling out of the driveway, glancing over at Dean. “It won’t. I promise it won’t. But--”

 

“Not in front of Dylan, remember?” Dean pointed out, and Sam could tell by the tone of Dean’s voice he probably didn’t want to talk about at all, let alone in front of Dylan.

 

Sam sighed and nodded, looking back at Dylan. “You excited for tonight, Dylan? Gonna get all dressed up, huh?”

 

Dylan nodded. “Danny’s going as a lumberjack.”

 

“I hope he’s not taking a real ax,” Sam smiled, pulling up to a stop sign. “Gonna share any of your candy with me and Daddy?”

 

Dylan shrugged. “I don’t know. I think Daddy will take it anyway.”

 

Sam laughed and looked over at Dean, who had to grin. “Yeah, that’s probably true. Maybe you and me will have to hide it from him, huh, Dylan?”

 

“Not a chance,” Dean said, finally lifting his head. “I’ll find it. I always do.” He smiled and laughed softly, looking back at Dylan. “Oh come on, Dylan, you’re not even gonna give me one little piece?”

 

Dylan grinned and shook his head. “Nope. It’s all mine.”

 

Dean reached back and grabbed onto Dylan’s foot, shaking it a little. “Greedy little boy,” he smiled.

 

Dylan laughed and shook his head. “Maybe I’ll give you one piece.”

 

“Good,” Dean nodded, turning back in his seat. “You give me one, I’ll just sneak two.”

 

Sam laughed and shook his head. “God, you two.”

 

* * * *

 

Sam pulled the car to a stop and looked over at Dean, who had his hand on the handle. “Can I come in for a sec?”

 

Dean nodded as he climbed out of the car, digging out his keys for the store. He sighed and glanced back as Sam walked up behind him and he pushed the door open, walking into the store. “So what’s up?” he asked, walking over to the counter.

 

Sam looked around, smiling at the complete absence of Halloween decorations. “I would think that any store you owned would be covered in Halloween stuff.”

 

Dean grinned and shook his head. “Bob’s not so into it. He does still own half, you know.”

 

“Yeah, but so do you,” Sam pointed out, leaning against the counter as Dean settled in behind it. 

 

Dean leaned back in his chair, nodding slowly. “So what’s going on? What do you wanna talk about?”

 

“I wanna talk about tonight,” Sam said quietly, before clearing his throat, “and our…and Dylan going with Todd and Danny.”

 

“Sam, I shouldn’t’ve brought it up,” Dean said, shaking his head. “I…I know that we’re back together and we’re still…sleeping together, but it’s-- it’s hard. For me. And I just want to get everything out. I don’t want you to do it again.”

 

“I won’t,” Sam said again. “I would never.”

 

“And I don’t want you to feel like you have to again,” Dean finished. “I know that somewhere…I’m to blame a little for what you did.”

 

Sam swallowed hard and shook his head once, looking away from Dean. “I just don’t know what to say around you anymore. I just…I don’t know, it’s kind of weird. I just don’t wanna do something wrong, or say something wrong. I got you to give me another chance, I’m just scared that I’m going to mess up somehow, all over again.”

 

Dean frowned and reached up, fixing Sam’s hair. “Sammy, we’ll just go with them tonight, okay? It’s fine.”

 

Sam sighed and shook his head. “I don’t want to.” He bit his lip and shifted before just leaning across the counter, tilting his head to give Dean a quick kiss. “I wanna be alone. I think that we need to be alone.” 

 

Dean smiled up at Sam. “Okay. Sounds good.”

 

Sam smiled and nodded. “It does, doesn’t it?”

 

Dean nodded and smiled back at him. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat when he heard the door open. “Okay, so…pick me up around five-thirty, okay? We eat something, take Dylan to Todd’s…”

 

Sam nodded. “Okay. I’ll talk to you later then.” He gave Dean another quick kiss before pushing himself off the counter and walking over to the door. He pulled the door open and jogged out into the bright morning sun, running his fingers over the hood of the car. 

 

* * * *

 

“And does anybody here know why it’s called Halloween?” Mr Daylin asked, walking back and forth in front of the classroom. There was a resounding ‘no’ from the class and he smiled and nodded. “Okay, well I’ll tell y--” he stopped talking when he saw one student with their hand raised. “Oh. Dylan. You have a guess?”

 

Dylan slowly brought his hand down slowly and nodded. “I think my mommy told me once. That’s not what it used to be called, I don’t think.” He thought for a moment. “Hallow Eve,” he said eventually.

 

Mr Dylan grinned and nodded, looking around the classroom. “What’s everybody else think? Has anybody else ever heard it called that?” He looked back to Dylan. “You’re actually really close, Dylan. All Hallows Eve. Now, does anybody know why it was called that?”

 

“How’d you know that?” the little boy sitting beside Dylan whispered.

 

Dylan shrugged. “I said my mommy told me. My parents like stuff like that.”

 

Mr Daylin continued on, still pacing back and forth. “Well, it’s because tomorrow used to known as All Saints Day, or All Hallows Day. Who here knows when Christmas Eve is?” he asked, a grin on his face.

 

“The day before Christmas!” a girl called out.

 

Mr Daylin nodded. “Exactly. Eve means the day before. Christmas Eve is the day before Christmas. All Hallows Eve is the day before All Hallows Day. But that’s not all very interesting, is it? No. Now who here is going out tonight? Raise your hands.” He looked around. “Wow, I think that’s everybody. Anybody wanna tell me what they’re going as? Okay, Robert.”

 

“I’m going as a dragon,” Robert said proudly. 

 

Mr Daylin’s eyes widened. “I love dragons. Wow, Robert. Anybody else?”

 

“I’m going as a princess,” another little girl said smiling.

 

Mr Daylin nodded. “Very nice. Dylan?”

 

Dylan’s eyes shot up to look at Mr Daylin and he stayed silent for a moment. “Oh um…Dracula.”

 

“Nice,” Mr Daylin smiled. “Okay, Chris.”

 

“A Jedi,” Chris said, lifting his head from his desk.

 

Mr Daylin laughed softly. “I didn’t know anybody even knew what Star Wars was anymore.”

 

“It was my dad’s idea,” Chris said flatly, before laying his head back down on his desk.

 

“Are you going out?” a boy asked from the side of the class.

 

Mr Daylin shook his head. “Oh, no, I’m too old for that. I’m staying in, me and my son are giving out candy. Maybe one of you guys will show up. I’d like to see some of your costumes.” He turned and grabbed an eraser, wiping off the white board. “Okay, so now that we’ve talked about Halloween, let’s do some ma--” The class collectively groaned and Mr Daylin smiled and turned around. “No? No math? How about just one question?” He turned back to the board and began writing. “If I have fifty-three pieces of candy, and I get one piece, how many pieces should everyone else get?” He turned back to his class. “Okay, everybody, work it out. Tell me when you’re done.”

 

Dylan grabbed his pencil and wrote down fifty-three then subtracted one, taking a deep breath as he wrote down fifty-two. He dropped his pencil and lifted his head, counting the other students in the classroom slowly, underneath his breath.

 

Mr Daylin watched everyone working as he walked over to his desk, sitting down, opening his drawers.

 

Dylan wrote down a two and a six and look at it and the fifty-two beside each other, trying to figure it out. He lifted his head and looked around, sighing sadly when he realized that some of the first graders had already finished.

 

“No rush,” Mr Daylin assured the class.

 

Dylan rubbed at his eyes and wrote another twenty-six under the first one and added them up. He grinned when he got fifty-two and wrote a big two on the paper before setting his pencil down.

 

Mr Daylin looked around the class and nodded. “Okay, if you’re done, you can come up, slowly and quietly, and tell me your answer. If you’re right, you can get your candy. But no telling anybody the answer.”

 

Dylan grabbed his paper and pushed himself up, letting a couple of students drop in front of him in line, shifting on his feet as he waited.

 

“Close,” Mr Daylin said, “but I want you to try again, okay?” He looked at the paper of the next student and glanced at it. “Here ya go, James,” Mr Daylin said, giving James his candy. “Alright, Dylan, what do you got for me?”

 

Dylan handed his paper to Mr Daylin, looking away nervously as Mr Daylin studied the paper. “Is it right?” he asked quietly.

 

Mr Daylin lifted his eyes and studied Dylan for a minute. “Of course it is, Dylan. You’re one of my best students.”

 

“But I’m not really good at math,” Dylan said.

 

Mr Daylin shrugged. “You’re good enough, Dylan. And here’s your candy.” He handed Dylan two pieces of candy and gave him his paper back with a bright sticker on the corner. “Don’t go sharing the answer now.”

 

Dylan grinned and shook his head, rushing back to his desk. He kept one candy clutched tightly in his hand and unwrapped the other one, popping it into his mouth.

 

* * * *

 

Sam knocked on the door and smiled when Dylan looked up.

 

“Mommy! Mommy!” Dylan yelled, pushing himself up, running over to Sam.

 

“What, Dylan? What?” Sam grinned, leaning down to lift Dylan up into his arms. “What’s going on, kiddo?”

 

“I got the math question right!” Dylan exclaimed, lifting his hand up to Sam. “I got this for you, Mommy.”

 

“Wow, thank you Dylan,” Sam grinned, kissing Dylan’s forehead. “Why don’t you save that for Daddy though, I think he likes candy a lot more than me.”

 

“Okay,” Dylan nodded, putting his candy back in his pocket. “But there was this math question on the board, and I got it right.”

 

“Awesome,” Sam smiled, looking over at Mr Daylin. “Hi, Mr Daylin.”

 

Mr Daylin nodded once. “How are you doing, Mr Winchester?”

 

“Fine,” Sam replied, grabbing Dylan’s backpack. “You all ready for Halloween?”

 

“Oh sure,” Mr Daylin answered. “Just gonna be giving out candy. So uh…you and Dylan’s father are into Halloween, huh?”

 

Sam shrugged. “I guess. Dean more than me, but yeah. We were raised more on the…superstitions and origins of it than anything though.”

 

“Dylan knew why it was called Halloween,” Mr Daylin said, standing up. 

 

“Did ya now?” Sam asked Dylan in surprise. “Wow, I didn’t know you remembered that, Dylan.” He smiled at Mr Daylin. “We’re not teaching him anything weird or anything, we just…like him to know the facts.”

 

“Hey, it’s fine by me,” Mr Daylin said, raising his hands. “Most people in this class can’t spell Halloween, let alone know how it got that name.”

 

Sam smiled. “Yeah, well, Dylan’s smart, I guess. I don’t wanna say it’s genetic or anything, but…I guess we’ll see you tomorrow, Mr Daylin.”

 

Mr Daylin nodded. “Have a happy Halloween, Dylan,” he said, waving.

 

“Bye!” Dylan said as he waved back.

 

“I’m really proud of you Dylan,” Sam said, walking out into the hallway. “You’re getting better at math all the time, huh?”

 

Dylan nodded. “I try. I wanna be like the older kids in the class.”

 

“Dyl, you don’t have to be as smart as them,” Sam assured him as they walked outside. “You’re smart the way you are, Pickle.” He kissed Dylan’s cheek, bouncing him up a bit in his arms as he walked over to the car, opening up the back door. He leaned down and helped Dylan into his booster seat, smiling at him. 

 

“What’s genetic mean?” Dylan asked, looking up at Sam. 

 

“It means you get it from somebody in your family,” Sam answered, closing the back door before opening up the driver door. 

 

“Am I genetic?” Dylan asked.

 

Sam pulled his seatbelt on and checked in the rear view mirror. “Well yeah, I guess you are. In a way. But that’s not what I meant.”

 

“What’d you mean then?” Dylan asked.

 

“I just meant that…” Sam trailed off as he tried to think of way to explain it without making Dean sound like he was stupid. “Well, I was a smart kid. So maybe that’s why you are.”

 

“Was Daddy smart?” Dylan asked.

 

“Sure he was,” Sam answered, “but Daddy didn’t like school very much. I loved it.”

 

“Oh,” Dylan nodded. “How come he didn’t like it?”

 

Sam shrugged and swallowed, glancing into the backseat. “It just wasn’t for him, I guess. But I hope that you love it, I hope that you want to go.”

 

“I like it,” Dylan said softly, his head lolling to one side, looking out the window.

 

* * * *

 

“Don’t swing that!” Todd exclaimed, grabbing onto the fake blade of Danny’s plastic ax. “Danny, don’t me take that away.”

 

“Then he’d just look like a lesbian,” Dean muttered, grinning over at Sam, who just rolled his eyes. “How do those feel, Dylan? Bite down.”

 

Dylan bit down and looked in the small mirror, grinning around his fangs. “I like them.”

 

Sam turn on his feet, nodding. “No, Dad, it’s-- it’s fine. We’re just getting him ready.”

 

“I’m Dracula, Grampie!” Dylan yelled.

 

“He’s Dracula,” Sam said, leaning against the wall. “No Dad, we’re…getting there. I promise. You wanted us to be happy, and this is what’s going to get us there.” He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Dad, do you want to talk to him yourself? No? Then fine, just believe me, for once.” He bit the inside of his cheek and looked over at Dean. “Okay Dad, we’ll call you again later. In a couple of days! Dad, I have to help Dylan get ready! Fine, love you too.” He turned off the phone and walked over to Dylan, crouching down in front of him. “Do they feel okay?” Sam asked, tying Dylan’s cape.

 

Dylan nodded. “They feel okay.”

 

“Good,” Sam nodded, grabbing the small tube of fake blood. He looked up when he felt somebody watching him and smiled at Danny. “Hey, Danny, how’s it going?”

 

“Are you guys coming with us?” Danny asked, dropping down to the floor, sitting beside Sam.

 

“Uh no, we’re not,” Sam said, dabbing the fake blood around Dylan’s mouth.

 

“Why not?” Dylan asked, looking up as Dean began to slick his hair back.

 

“Because you’re going with Todd and Danny,” Dean answered. “Me and Mommy are gonna stay here.”

 

“And give out candy?” Dylan asked.

 

“No,” Danny answered before Sam or Dean could. “They’re gonna kiss.”

 

Dylan scrunched up his face and groaned. “Ew, gross.” He shook his body, sticking his tongue out.

 

“That’s what parents do,” Danny said solemnly, nodding his head.

 

“Why?” Dylan asked.

 

“‘Cause that’s how babies are born,” Danny answered.

 

Dean began to laugh softly and Todd just began apologizing quietly.

 

“But Mommy and Daddy kiss all the time,” Dylan began, “and I’m the only baby they have.”

 

“Because that’s not how babies are born,” Sam said, smiling at Dylan.

 

“And I told you to stop telling people that,” Todd said, pulling gently on one of Danny’s curls.

 

Danny rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he muttered. “You look so cool, Dylan.”

 

“Thanks,” Dylan grinned, bouncing up and down a little. “Can we go now?”

 

“Are you ready?” Sam asked, pushing himself up.

 

“Yeah,” Dylan answered, grasping onto Sam’s hand. 

 

“This is pretty rocking, Dylan,” Dean nodded. “Try not to scare all the little girl vampires too bad, ‘kay?” He opened the door and stepped outside.

 

Dylan grinned and nodded. “Okay.” He let go of Sam’s hand and grabbed onto Danny’s, Todd holding onto Danny’s ax. “Bye Mommy! Bye Daddy!”

 

“Don’t forget my candy!” Dean called after them.

 

“Bye!” Danny yelled, waving his hand.

 

“See you guys later,” Todd said, waving the ax.

 

“Don’t steal my candy, Todd!” Dean yelled.

 

Sam laughed and waved, watching them turn out of the driveway before walking back into the house, Dean closing the door behind them. 

 

“So uh…” Dean began awkwardly, following Sam through the kitchen and dining room, into the living room. “How about them Yankees?”

 

“Hate them,” Sam said, flopping down on the couch.

 

Dean rolled his eyes and flopped down beside Sam, reaching over to take the remote away from him. “You know that I suck at this.”

 

Sam smiled gently and nodded slowly. “Yeah well…” he rubbed at his eyes. “What did you wanna talk about?”

 

Dean cleared his throat and shifted on the couch, facing Sam. “Shax was in the triangle. He said that he could help Dad, or Dylan.”

 

Sam swallowed and brought his legs up, turning to face Dean. “Okay.”

 

“I asked him what was wrong with Dylan,” Dean continued on, and he could feel tears spring to his eyes already. “He said that nothing was, unless I thought that there was something wrong with you and that he really was his father’s son. I didn’t get it. I said I didn’t have any powers.” He sighed and looked away for a moment. “Dad figured it out. That he meant Rosier. I didn’t believe him. I didn’t want to, and I couldn’t, but he said it. I didn’t know whether it was true.”

 

Sam cleared his throat and took a deep breath. He really wasn’t expecting all of that. “When did you find out for sure?”

 

“When Dylan made that gun float,” Dean answered. “Shax had said he’d be powerful. And that his father was going to come for him, and that we were going to die in the process. I didn’t believe it until we knew he was…special.” He sighed. “And I didn’t tell you. All of the chances I had, I didn’t tell you. Soon enough it just became…what I did. It got easier to lie to you.” He cleared his throat and brought his knees up to his chest, looking at Sam expectantly.

 

Sam sniffled and rubbed at his eyes, looking around the living room. “You really wanna hear this?”

 

Dean thought for a moment and swallowed hard, not sure if he really wanted to. “I need to.”

 

“We were in Peter’s office,” Sam began, and he closed his eyes. “And he kept looking at me, and moving closer. I told him I had to go back to work, but I just couldn’t get my feet to move. And he kissed me.”

 

Dean drew a sharp breath and began to feel sick to his stomach.

 

“I ran downstairs,” Sam continued. “When Peter came back, I told him I had to leave and he told Sebastien to follow me. I kissed him. Then I left.” He sniffled and wrapped his arms around himself. “That night I was sick. I threw up.”

 

“You said you had a bad sandwich,” Dean remembered softly.

 

Sam nodded. “I hated myself for what I did. But I didn’t know what I should tell you, if anything. When I went back to work the next day, I had decided that I was going to tell him it couldn’t go on. That I loved you and I wanted to be with you and that maybe you could forgive a kiss but…I went to his house on break and that’s when we--” his voice broke and he let out a broken sob. “I couldn’t believe what I did. I told Lacy that I just had to think. We went to the beach and you finally told me that you loved me, for the first time in forever and I knew, I knew that I had ruined everything and that you couldn’t know. But when I went back to work on Monday, he was there and-- and--” he just stopped talking, his shoulders shaking, trying to keep his cries in. “I was so…confused and I didn’t know why I was doing it, but I was and I just--” 

 

Sam finally looked over at Dean, who was staring at him silently, tears running down his cheeks. “I was happy when you found out,” he said eventually, trying to smile. “I was relieved that I didn’t have to hide it anymore and that we could finally work on…moving on. I was relieved that I wasn’t the one who had to tell you.” He reached up, rubbing at his cheeks. “I didn’t plan on it, Dean. The first kiss. Or the second. But I--” he hiccuped and groaned softly, “I don’t have any excuses,” he said. “I really don’t. Because nothing is could enough to excuse what I did. I didn’t expect you to ever forgive me. I know you don’t trust me. I wouldn’t either. And I don’t know what I could ever do to make you comfortable around me again.”

 

Dean took a deep breath and nodded, shifting on the couch. He looked away for a second before pushing himself up on the couch, leaning over to cup Sam’s cheeks in his hands. “Thank you for telling me.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes and sniffled, wiping at his eyes. “Yeah,” he said quietly, voice rough, looking away from Dean.

 

Dean leaned in and kissed Sam gently, holding him close before pulling apart. “You know I suck at the foreplay.”

 

Sam let out a short bark of laughter, squeezing his eyes shut. “I didn’t know that that’s what this was supposed to be. If it is…I’m not really not in the mood.”

 

Dean sighed and stood up slowly, reaching his hand out to Sam. “Come on, just come into the bedroom.”

 

“Did you finally clean it?” Sam asked flatly, grasping onto Dean’s hand, letting himself be led to the room.

 

“Sort of,” Dean said, pushing open the door. 

 

Sam looked around in surprise, jaw opening slightly. “Wow. When’d you light all the candles?”

 

“During my ‘shower’,” Dean answered, looking over at Sam. “Sure, I wasted a little water, but I think it’s worth it. And yes, I did clean the room.”

 

“I see that,” Sam said quietly, walking further into the room, looking around. “I’m sort of surprised you didn’t burn the house down.” 

 

Dean closed the bedroom door behind them and leaned against it, breath a little shaky. “We don’t have to do this. I know that everything we talked about probably isn’t the best lead up for this, but I just thought…as much as it disg-- hurts what you did…I still miss you. And I think I need you. And that sort of scares me.”

 

Sam turned around and swallowed hard, walking back over to Dean, one hand pressed to the door, beside Dean’s head. “I love you,” he breathed, meeting Dean’s eyes before ducking his head, nipping at Dean’s bottom lip. He pulled back, looking at Dean again, waiting for permission.

 

Dean tilted his head and wrapped his arms around Sam, pulling him in for a real kiss. He moaned as Sam’s hands wormed under his shirt and began rubbing his muscles gently. “God,” he muttered, pulling back to take a breath. He jumped up a bit and wrapped his legs around Sam’s waist.

 

Sam groaned softly at the extra weight and slid his hands under Dean’s ass and pressed him harder against the door. “Fuck,” he breathed, feeling Dean’s dick press against him. He groaned as Dean began working his hips against him and he dropping his head to Dean’s neck, mouthing at the skin. “I wanna fuck you,” he moaned, words shaky.

 

“You sure?” Dean asked, fingers digging into Sam’s shoulders, nudging at Sam’s head, getting him to look up at him. He met Sam’s eyes, smiling weakly at him. “You sure?” he asked again, gently.

 

Sam shook his head, kissing Dean again. “No,” he admitted. “I think--” he panted, “I want you to fuck me.” He squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his head again. “Make love,” he swallowed hard, “to me.”

 

“Get me over to the bed then, Sammy,” Dean said softly, thumbing Sam’s cheek.

 

Sam glanced over to the bed and stepped back, taking Dean away from wall. He walked as fast he could, kissing Dean all the while, over to the bed, dropping Dean down onto the mattress. He moaned and reached between them, working at Dean’s jeans blindly.

 

“Come on,” Dean muttered, “come on. Get on the bed, Sammy.”

 

Sam sat down and began working at his own clothes as he moved up towards the head of the bed. He pulled off his shirt and dropped it onto the floor, swallowing hard as Dean took him in. 

 

“Still gorgeous,” Dean murmured, dropping his head to suck at Sam’s nipple, mouth working as his fingers worked at the other one.

 

Sam cried out and his body began trembling, digging his fingers into Dean’s skull. “G-- god, Dean. Oh god,” he whined when Dean lifted his head. “I love you.”

 

Dean nodded furiously as he pulled his own shirt off and undid his jeans. He awkwardly pushed them down, kicking them off onto the floor, along with his boxers. He looked away from Sam in a moment of awkwardness, the weight of what they were finally doing hitting him, hard. 

 

“Come here,” Sam said softly, reaching out to him. “It’s okay.”

 

Dean nodded and dropped down, kissing and mouthing at Sam’s abs, running his fingers gently over the almost fresh wound. He moved his hand to work at Sam’s jeans, finally getting them undone and open, reaching into to curl around Sam’s cock.

 

“God,” Sam breathed, thrusting his hips up. “Oh god, Dean.” He lifted his hips as Dean began to pull at his jeans and boxers, watching Dean drop them down to the floor. 

 

“My brother,” Dean said, moving between Sam’s legs, grabbing onto Sam’s arms as he began to kiss Sam again, slipping his tongue into Sam’s mouth. “Beautiful.” He reached down and wrapped his fingers around Sam again, slipping one of his fingers into his mouth, wrapping his tongue around it, wetting it thoroughly. “Spread ‘em a little,” he commanded gently.

 

Sam nodded and brought his knees up a little, taking deep breaths as Dean began pushing his finger into him.

 

“Is it okay?” Dean asked, as he shifted on the bed, reaching over to the nightstand, nearly pulling the drawer right out.

 

Sam nodded. “Yeah,” he answered, watching Dean pull out the lube and a small foil package. He felt his stomach sink and he closed his eyes, jerking away from Dean, feeling his finger slip out. “I can’t do this,” he muttered, ready to push himself up before he felt Dean’s hand on his stomach.

 

“I didn’t…” Dean began, looking down at the condom in his hand. “I didn’t know if--”

 

“We did,” Sam nodded, settling back onto the mattress. “Both times.”

 

Dean frowned and tilted his head, looking at Sam. “You really only…twice?”

 

Sam nodded slowly, not sure exactly what Dean had thought. “Yeah. We don’t-- we don’t need that. But if you want to, we--” he cut himself off when Dean reached over, dropping the condom back inside the drawer. “Are you sure?”

 

Dean nodded. “Ye-- yeah. I’m-- I’m sure. If you’re okay with it.”

 

“I am,” Sam assured him. He swallowed as Dean popped the cape on the lube, drizzling some onto his fingers. He closed his eyes and dropped his head back against the pillow, but he opened them again when he didn’t feel anything. “Yeah?”

 

“Can you roll over?” Dean asked quietly.

 

Sam nodded and took a couple seconds, but did roll over onto his stomach, pushing himself up onto all fours. He groaned when Dean slipped two fingers in this time and his breath stilled for a moment before he began to work his hips against Dean’s fingers.

 

Dean covered Sam’s back with kisses, digits twisting and thrusting in and out. He slipped his fingers out and pressed three in, watching Sam’s head go back a little, smiling when Sam cried out. He kept working his fingers as he grabbed the lube again, squeezing the bottle to dribble it on his dick. He jerked himself a couple times and pushed himself up, slipping his fingers out to press against Sam, pushing in slowly but steadily. 

 

Sam squeezed his eyes shut and moaned, his arms dropping out from beneath him. 

 

Dean began thrusting in and out slowly, hands digging into Sam’s hips.

 

“T--” Sam’s voice broke as Dean pressed onto his prostate, “touch me. Please.”

 

Dean slid one hand off Sam’s hip and under him, wrapping his hand around Sam’s dick. “Love you, love you, love you,” he began chanting to himself, draped over Sam’s back, hips thrusting. 

 

Sam nodded jerkily. “Yes,” he breathed, “yes, yes, god, Dean,” he cried out loudly, fingers digging into the bed sheets. “Harder.” He squeezed his eyes shut and his breathing was heavy, just letting all the feeling wash over him, driving everything else out of his mind. His toes curled a little and he tried to bite into the comforter as he came, jerking and pulsing into Dean’s hand. Warm and sticky onto the sheets, Sam moaned as Dean’s grip tightened and Dean came inside him.

 

Dean let out a broken cry and bit into Sam’s shoulder, pulling back to blow cool air onto the spit covered teeth marks. He collapsed onto Sam as Sam collapsed onto the bed and he took a deep breath, snuggling into Sam.

 

Sam smiled and groaned, shifting as best as he could. “I love you,” he said again, trying to lift his head.

 

Dean smiled and shifted on Sam, pressing their lips together. “Love you too.”

 

* * * *

 

“Daddy! Daddy!” Dylan yelled, pushing open the bedroom door.

 

Dean groaned and shifted under the bed sheets, eyes flickering open. “Hey, Dylan, what’s going on?” he asked, voice rough.

 

“It was so fun!” Dylan exclaimed, climbing onto the bed beside Dean.

 

“Yeah?” Dean asked, wrapping his arm around Dylan. “How much candy did you eat?”

 

“Only a couple pieces,” Dylan replied. “I swear. Where’s Mommy?” he asked, looking around.

 

“Shower,” Dean answered, yawning and stretching. “Where are Todd and Danny?”

 

“In the living room,” Dylan answered. “Are you gonna get up?” he asked.

 

Dean nodded slowly. “Definitely. I wanna see what you got, I wanna hear your stories. I just gotta get dressed, okay?”

 

Dylan nodded and climbed off of the bed, dropping down onto the floor. “Okay. I’ll be in the living room.”

 

Dean nodded and looked up as the water turned off. “Okay.” He waited until Dylan was out of the room and the door was closed again and he pushed himself up, going over to the dresser. He grabbed a pair of sweats and an old t-shirt and dressed quickly, knocking on the bathroom door.

 

“Yeah?” Sam called.

 

“They’re back,” Dean replied. “We’ll be in the living room, ‘kay?”

 

“Yep,” Sam agreed.

 

Dean walked over to the door and opened it, smiling at Todd and Danny. “So how’d you guys do? Have fun?”

 

Danny nodded as he and Dylan dumped their bags onto the floor. “It was awesome. Dad tripped on the sidewalk and fell. It was so funny.” He and Dylan began laughing as they sorted through their candy.

 

“Shit Todd, you okay?” Dean asked, walking over to him.

 

Todd nodded, waving his hand. “I’m fine. Luckily my whole body caught my fall.”

 

Dean began laughing and shook his head, walking into the kitchen. “I think a drink might help with that.”

 

“I think I’m tipsy enough,” Todd smiled, but didn’t object to the drink otherwise.

 

Dean grabbed a can of beer from the refrigerator and walked back into the living room, handing it off to Todd. “Okay Dylan, let’s see what we got.” He sat down on the floor and lifted Dylan onto his lap, looking at all the candy. “Why’d you mix it together?”

 

“Because I don’t like it all,” Dylan replied, lifting his head, “and neither does Danny.”

 

“Well that’s nice of both of you,” Dean said, kissing Dylan’s cheek.

 

“Do you see anything you want, Daddy?” Dylan asked, reaching out for a couple of pieces.

 

“I think I do,” Dean nodded, wrapping one arm around Dylan as he leaned forward, grabbing a small box of Nerds. “You should give these to Mommy, I think he’ll like them.”

 

“But do you want anything?” Dylan asked.

 

Dean shook his head. “I’ll just let you two sort through what you want. I’ll pick later, ‘kay?” He glanced back when he heard the bedroom door open again. “Hey, Sam.”

 

Sam smiled and walked into the living room, careful not to step on any of the candy as he sat down beside Danny. “How’s it going? Have fun you two?”

 

Danny nodded. “Yeah, it was cool. You guys should’ve come.”

 

“Maybe next year we’ll take you off your dad’s hands,” Sam replied, looking over at Dylan. “Have fun, Dyl?”

 

Dylan nodded. “Mommy, Daddy said I should give these to you.” He handed the small box over to Sam. “He said you’d like them.”

 

Sam read the package and rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Gee, thanks Dean.”

 

“You’re just lucky they don’t have any Dweebs,” Dean shrugged, kissing Dylan’s cheek. “Finish sorting your candy, I think both of you guys have bedtimes coming up pretty soon.”

 

Danny groaned and Dylan just nodded. “Do we have to go to school tomorrow?” Danny whined.

 

“Yes, Danny,” Told answered. “You do. Just like you did last year. And the year before that.”

 

“No complaining from you, Dylan,” Dean said, shifting on the floor. “And you still gotta have a bath, get all this make up and gel off of ya.”

 

Dylan nodded as he ran his fingers over the pile of candy. “I think…you should have this one, Daddy.” He handed the box of Popeye’s candy cigarettes to Dean.

 

Dean grinned and opened the box, taking one of the sticks out. He put in the corner of his mouth, raising an eyebrow. “James Dean. Steve McQueen. James Bond.”

 

“What is ‘people that you look nothing alike?’” Sam grinned.

 

Dean pulled the stick out of his mouth and threw it at Sam. “Just for that, I’m gonna smoke these in bed.” He stood up, lifting Dylan up with him. “Come on Dyl, let’s go run your bath.”

 

Danny looked over at his father, who was looking back.

 

“What?” Todd asked.

 

Danny squinted his eyes and stared at him before he looked at Sam, a huge grin on his face. “My dad totally tripped on the sidewalk. It was awesome.”

 

Sam let out a short laugh as he looked over at Todd. “That’s why you’re drinking huh? Get rid of the pain?”

 

Todd shook his head. “More like forget I did it. But for some reason, I don’t think this kid he’s gonna let me forget it.”

 

Danny reached into the pile of candy and pulled out a bag of M&M’s, tossing them onto his father’s lap. “Here Dad, eat these. And if it wasn’t so funny, I wouldn’t be telling anybody. You’re the one who tripped.”

 

Sam snorted and shook his head, grabbing another piece of chocolate, throwing it over to Todd. “Here Todd, I think you might need more.”

 

Dean lifted Dylan into the bathtub, cupping some water in his hand, dumping it on Dylan’s head. “So you had fun, right?”

 

Dylan nodded. “Yeah, it was cool.” He grabbed the bar of soap, laughing when it slid out of his hands.

 

“You gonna go again next year?” Dean asked.

 

“Yeah, probably,” Dylan replied. “Will you and Mommy go with me though?”

 

“Sure thing, kiddo,” Dean assured him. “Me and Mommy just had to stay in tonight. We needed to be alone.” He realized that may not have been the best thing to say when Dylan looked up at him, eyes wide with sadness. He kissed Dylan’s forehead, smiling at him. “Not because you don’t like being around you, Dylan, but mommies and daddies just need to be alone sometimes.”

 

“What’d you do?” Dylan asked, soaping up his arms.

 

Dean tried not to laugh or blush and just cleared his throat. “Oh, you know…talked. A lot. Napped a little. Did some kissing.” He laughed when Dylan made the same face he had made earlier. “Trust me kid, you’ll like it when you’re older. Way older.”

 

Dylan looked up at Dean, biting the inside of his lip. “Cillian’s mommy is a girl,” he said finally.

 

Dean nodded, once. “Yeah, she is.”

 

“But Mommy’s a boy,” Dylan pointed out, looking at the tap in front of him. “What’s that mean?”

 

Dean shrugged. “I don’t think it really means much of anything. Mommies are just different. Just like daddies are different.”

 

“Where’s Danny’s mommy?” Dylan asked quietly.

 

Dean swallowed hard and looked down into the water, helping rinse some of the soap off of Dylan’s arms. “Danny’s mommy’s gone, Dyl. She died, when he was little.”

 

“Is she gonna come back?” Dylan asked, lifting his head.

 

Dean shook his head. “No. She isn’t. She’s gone forever, remember? Me and Mommy explained what dying means to you.”

 

“Yeah,” Dylan nodded slowly. “Does Danny remember her?”

 

“I’m not sure Dylan,” Dean answered. “He wasn’t a baby, but he wasn’t old either.” He closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head. “Why all the sudden interest in mommies, Dylan?”

 

“Mommy went away for awhile,” Dylan said, looking up at Dylan, “and I missed him a lot. Is he going to go away again?”

 

“No,” Dean said quickly, “he isn’t. That’s what me and Mommy had to be alone tonight. We had to make sure he wasn’t going away again. And he isn’t, it’s all okay now.”

 

“What did he do to make you sad?” Dylan asked. “He said he made you sad and that’s why he couldn’t come home.”

 

Dean sighed and kissed Dylan’s forehead, holding him close for a moment. “That’s a story for when you’re older, Dylan. Tonight, I just want you to tell me about all the cool costumes you saw. Or tell me about that math question you got right in class today. I knew you’d be good at math once you gave it a chance.”

 

“It had subtracting and adding,” Dylan said proudly, grinning up at Dean. “It was fifty-three minus one.”

 

“And what’s that?” Dean asked, washing Dylan’s shoulders.

 

“Fifty-two,” Dylan answered. “And it was how many pieces would each kid in my class get.”

 

“How many kids are in your class?” Dean asked, reaching out for the shampoo.

 

“Twenty-six,” Dylan answered, closing his eyes.

 

“And so the answer was two, right?” Dean asked as he poured some of the shampoo onto his palm.

 

“Yep,” Dylan nodded. “Mommy said it might be…genetic. Or something.”

 

“What might be genetic?” Dean asked.

 

“Me being smart,” Dylan answered. “That’s what Mommy told me after school.”

 

Dean grinned and shook his head, rolling his eyes. “Oh yeah, it’s genetic alright. I was a genius, I tell ya.”

 

Dylan made a quiet noise before he began to speak again. “But Mommy said that you didn’t even li--”

 

“Mommy lies sometimes Dylan,” Dean interrupted, making a mental note to make fun of Sam for it later. “He was the one who didn’t like school. In fact, I had to make him get up and go, everyday.”

 

“Really?” Dylan asked in surprise.

 

Dean began rinsing the shampoo out of Dylan’s hair, nodding. “Sure. Just don’t ask him about it though. He doesn’t want you to know.”

 

“Okay,” Dylan agreed, opening his eyes once all the shampoo was gone. “But I think you’re lying, Daddy.”

 

Dean’s jaw dropped slightly and he looked at Dylan in disbelief. “How did you know that?”

 

“Because I asked Grampie once,” Dylan replied. “He said that Mommy got into a really big…college?”

 

Dean smiled and nodded. “Yeah, college. Uh, university.”

 

“And that you didn’t like school,” Dean finished.

 

Dean shook his head and smiled, helping Dylan wipe some of the make-up off of his face. “Remind me to call your grandfather sometime. I think he needs a good talking to.” He laughed and reached over, grabbing the facecloth.


	13. Chapter 13

Title: Look What Love Has Done - Volume 3 - Chapter 13

Pairing: Sam/Dean

Disclaimer: Not mine

Rating: R this chapter

Summary: For Sam's birthday, they take a weekend away. But little do they know what's waiting for them in their hotel.

Author's Note: Forget volume one, forget volume two; this is volume three 

 

six years and twenty-one days old

 

“Wow,” Dylan said, looking around the lobby of the hotel, hooking his thumbs under the straps of his backpack. “This is nice.”

 

Sam smiled and looked around, watching Dean over at the counter. “Do you have any work that you need to get done this weekend, Dylan?”

 

Dylan shook his head. “No. I told Mr Daylin that I was going away, he just said to have fun.” He looked up at Sam, smiling at him. “Why are we here again?”

 

Dean walked back over to them, putting his bank card back in his wallet. “For your mom’s birthday.”

 

“But we already went out for dinner last night,” Dylan pointed out, “and I already gave you my present. Do I have to get you another one?”

 

Sam shook his head, laughing softly. “No, Dylan, your first present was fine. I loved it, you know that.” He looked over at Dean. “Room number?”

 

“Four ten,” Dean replied, picking up his bag. “Do you have any work to do this weekend, Dylan?”

 

Dylan sighed and rolled his eyes. “No, Daddy, I don’t.”

 

Dean looked over at Sam questioningly. 

 

“I already asked him,” Sam explained.

 

“Oh,” Dean nodded, pressing the button for the elevator. When the doors opened they stepped inside, and Dean kept one hand on Dylan’s shoulder. “So Sammy, I gotta ask…what’s thirty feel like?”

 

Sam smiled and stretched his arms above his head. “Great. What’s thirty-four like?” he smirked.

 

“Shut up,” Dean muttered, reaching over to punch Sam in the arm.

 

“Ow,” Sam cried playfully, rubbing his arm. “Good god, Dean.” The doors opened with a ding and Dean led Dylan out of the elevator, Sam following behind them. 

 

“Four ten, Dylan,” Dean said, letting Dylan run ahead to find the room. He looked back at Sam, grinning. “When are we gonna find the time to be alone this weekend?”

 

Sam snorted and rolled his eyes. “Um, with a six-year-old? Probably never.” He looked ahead, watching Dylan check the room numbers. 

 

“Maybe we’ll have to have a nice shower,” Dean murmured, winking at Sam. “Never did get to give you your real present.”

 

Sam opened his mouth to answer but stopped when Dylan called out. “Find it, Dyl?”

 

Dylan nodded, looking over at Sam and Dean. “I think so.”

 

“Let’s see,” Dean said, walking over to the door. “Four ten, good job, Dyl.” He took one of the key cards and swiped it, turning the handle to push the heavy door open.

 

Dylan ran in under Dean’s arms and looked around, before climbing up onto one of the large beds. “Whoa, this is huge!” he exclaimed as he began bouncing up and down on it.

 

“That’s what she said,” Dean muttered, smiling over at Sam. He set his bag down on the bed and sat down, looking over at Dylan. “Please don’t, Dyl,” he said.

 

Dylan nodded and stopped bouncing, before pulling off his backpack. “What time is it?” Dylan asked, climbing up to the head of the bed.

 

“Time for a late supper,” Sam said, dropping his bag onto the floor. “Are you hungry?” he asked, sitting down at the small table.

 

“I’m tired,” Dylan answered, dropping down onto the floor. “My legs are all achy.” He walked over to Sam and reached up to him, yawning as Sam lifted him up into his arms. 

 

“Aw, poor baby,” Sam said softly, rubbing Dylan’s back. “Just from the driving. You’re not used to so much driving! You’ll be okay. You want to go get something to eat?”

 

“Can you feed me?” Dylan asked, not even lifting his head.

 

Sam grinned over at Dean, who was smiling back and rolling his eyes. “Oh yeah, sure, Dylan. If you’re really that tired…I guess I can. Need me to hold the cup up to you too?”

 

Dylan nodded sleepily, reaching up to rub at his eyes. “That’d be nice.”

 

Dean let out a short laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “My god.” He stood up and reached over, opening his bag. “Where we going?” he asked, pulling off his t-shirt.

 

Sam shrugged and stood up, shifting Dylan in his arms. “Whatever you wanna wear is fine, Dean,” he said, leaning down to mouth at Dean’s shoulder. “Come on, Dyl, let’s get you washed up.”

 

Dylan shook his head and leaned back, looking up at Sam. “I don’t wanna.”

 

“Well you gotta,” Sam said, turning the bathroom light on. “Just wash your hands and face, Dylan.” He leaned down, turning on the tap. “Make sure it’s not too hot, Dyl.” He kissed Dylan’s temple and leaned down further, letting Dylan climb out of his arms. He walked back out of the bathroom and over to his bag, pulling his own shirt off, dropping it down onto the floor. He reached in and pulled out a polo t-shirt, glancing back at Dean, watching Dean push his jeans down before he cleared his throat and looked away, pulling his own shirt on. 

 

Dean looked back at Sam before he pulled on a new pair of jeans, hopping up and down a couple times. He pulled his shirt on and walked past Sam, looking into the bathroom. “You doing okay in here, Dylan?”

 

Dylan nodded, showing Dean his hands. “I’m cleaning my hands.”

 

“Good,” Dean nodded, reaching down to ruffle Dylan’s hair. “Oh, and by the way, you’re feeding yourself.” He walked back over to Sam, ruffling Sam’s hair this time. “He’s feeding himself.”

 

“I heard,” Sam said, following him with his eyes as Dean reached down, getting his feet into his sneakers. “He’s just a little cranky. He hates driving.”

 

“How do you think I feel?” Dean asked, straightening up. “I’m the one who was driving.”

 

Sam laughed softly and leaned over a bit, trying to see into the bathroom. “I think you’re done, Dylan.” The water shut off and a couple second later, Dylan came out of the bathroom. “Come on, we gotta get going. It’s almost time for you to go to bed.”

 

Dylan sighed and walked over to the door, pulling it open as Sam and Dean followed behind him. He walked out into the hall and looked both ways, before looking back at Sam.

 

“This way, kiddo,” Sam said, hands on Dylan’s shoulders, turning him left. “Down the stairs.”

 

Dean made sure he had the room key before letting the door close behind them, following Dylan and Sam. “Alright, so where we gonna go?”

 

“I want fries,” Dylan replied, grabbing onto the railing as he slowly began making his way down the steps.

 

“How about something healthier, Dylan?” Sam asked. “And it’s getting late, I don’t think you need fries this late at night.”

 

“What am I supposed to eat then?” Dylan whined.

 

“Well I guess that just depends on where we go,” Sam pointed out. “Dylan, please don’t whine. I think we’re all a little too tired for that.”

 

“Sorry,” Dylan apologized quietly. “I’ll eat whatever you want me to.”

 

Dean held the door open for Sam and Dylan, taking a deep breath before he yawned. “Good god Sammy, I think that you might have to feed me.”

 

Sam laughed and kept one hand on Dylan as they walked across the parking lot to the car. “So what’d you think of all the water we drove by, Dyl?”

 

“There’s too much,” Dylan muttered, pulling on the door handle. He stepped back as Sam opened the door for him and climbed into the car, sitting himself down in his booster seat. “Are there sharks?”

 

“Um,” Sam climbed into car, looking over at Dean. “Well yeah, I mean, there’s sharks. But I don’t think there’s a lot of shark attacks in California. I haven’t heard of very many. What about you, Dean?”

 

Dean turned the key in the ignition, looking in the rear view mirror. “Uh, I don’t know. I think there’s sharks everywhere, Dylan. In the ocean. But I don’t think it’s something that you should be worried about.”

 

“Danny watched a movie about them,” Dylan said, looking into the front seat. “He said that-- that they’re really big and eat people. A lot of people.”

 

“What movie was it, Dyl?” Dean asked, glancing into the backseat as he pulled out of the parking lot. “Do you remember?”

 

Dylan thought for a moment. “Uh…Jaws!”

 

Dean and Sam both began laughing. “Uh, Dylan, if it happened in Jaws,” Sam began, “it probably won’t ever happen to you. I promise.”

 

“Isn’t Danny like, seven anyway?” Dean asked. “Why is he watching Jaws?”

 

“Probably the same reason that I was watching The Exorcist when I was six,” Sam pointed out.

 

Dean snorted and turned the wheel, glancing over at Sam. “Hell, that was an educational film for us.” 

 

Sam laughed and reached down, turning the radio on, going through the stations. “And before you ask Dyl, I think you’re too young to watch Jaws. And The Exorcist.”

 

“The Exorcist might help explain the family business,” Dean said softly, leaning over in his seat. “Plus…more than one of those scenes is kind of hot.” Sam swatted Dean on the back of the head, and Dean jerked, sitting up straight again. “Okay, fine. When he’s older.” Dean looked out the window and smiled when he saw an Applebee’s ahead. “Okay, Applebee’s Sam?”

 

Sam nodded, leaning against the door. “Whatever.”

 

“You’ll get something good here, Dylan,” Dean assured him, pulling into the parking lot. “May I recommend the chicken fingers?”

 

“Let him pick his own food,” Sam said, climbing out of the car, opening the door for Dylan. “Come on, Dylan. Still tired?”

 

Dylan shrugged and reached up, grabbing onto Sam’s hand. “How long are we here for?”

 

“Why?” Sam asked, reaching down to hoist Dylan up into his arms, smiling at Dean, who had opened the door for him. “Little homesick, maybe?”

 

Dylan nodded slowly, rubbing his eyes. “Who’s gonna feed Gus?”

 

“Todd and Danny,” Sam said softly, shifting on his feet. “We’re only gonna be here for two nights, Dyl.” He gave Dylan a quick kiss on the forehead, following Dean over to their booth. He watched Dean sit down on one side of the booth and Sam sat down on the other, keeping Dylan in his arms. “Look, a menu,” he said, reaching over. He opened the menu, scanning for the kid’s menu. “See anything you want?”

 

Dylan leaned down and read the page slowly, making a face. “I don’t know. Chicken fingers?”

 

“Told ya,” Dean murmured. 

 

“Okay, now it says down here you can get something else with it,” Sam explained. “I think you want the steamed broccoli, okay?”

 

Dylan nodded eagerly and leaned back against Sam’s chest, looking over at Dean.

 

“What are you gonna have, Dean?” Sam asked, cracking his neck.

 

Dean quickly scanned the menu in front of him, nodding slowly. “Chicken fajita roll-up and a…” he looked up at Sam, “can you drive back?”

 

Sam smiled and nodded.

 

“And a Heineken,” Dean finished. “You?”

 

“I don’t know,” Sam shrugged, flipping through the menu. “Grilled Italian chicken salad and a water.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes. “Health nut.”

 

“Oh well,” Sam smiled, rubbing his stomach. “What do you want to drink, Dyl?”

 

“Water,” Dylan said quietly, still looking over at Dean, meeting his eyes.

 

“Sounds good,” Sam nodded, giving Dylan another kiss. He looked down at Dylan, running his fingers through Dylan’s hair. “You’ll feel better once you eat, Dyl,” he assured him quietly. “You gonna go to bed once we get back to the hotel?”

 

“Can I watch a little TV?” Dylan asked, looking up at Sam.

 

“We’ll see how you feel,” Sam answered, raising an eyebrow at Dean, who just shrugged, still watching Dylan.

 

“Dyl, you wanna go to the washroom?” Dean asked, sliding himself out of the booth.

 

Dylan nodded and pushed himself off Sam’s lap, standing on the seat, arms up.

 

“Okay, let’s go,” Dean said, lifting Dylan up into his arms. “Be right back, Sam. Order for us.” He groaned softly and shifted Dylan in his arms, looking at him. “What’s up with all the creepy eye contact, kid?” he asked, pushing open the bathroom door.

 

“I have to tell you something,” Dylan said as Dean leaned down, and he dropped out of Dean’s arms.

 

“Okay,” Dean said, grasping Dylan’s head, leading him away from the door. He crouched down and let out a deep breath. “What’s up?”

 

“There’s somebody in our room,” Dylan said quietly, shifting on his feet.

 

“What do you mean, Dyl?” Dean asked, closing his eyes for a moment, trying to ignore the dull ache that had already started in his ankle. 

 

“He was in the bathroom,” Dylan continued, “when I was. In the tub.”

 

Dean swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat. “What-- what-- Dylan, me and your mom would’ve seen something, we both looked in.”

 

“He was right there!” Dylan cried. “I saw him. I swear.”

 

“Dylan, is this just some excuse to get us to go home?” Dean asked sternly.

 

Dylan shook his head furiously. “Daddy, I’m not lying, there was someone in there,” he said, eyes filling with tears. “He was in the bathtub.”

 

Dean shook his head and stood up, grasping onto Dylan’s hand, leading him out of the bathroom. 

 

“Daddy, I’m not lying!” Dylan exclaimed, trying to jerk his hand out of Dean’s grip.

 

“Dylan, stop it,” Dean insisted. “I didn’t see anybody and neither did Sam. Now sit down.”

 

“What’s going on?” Sam asked, looking up at Dean. “Dylan?”

 

“He saw somebody in the bathroom,” Dean said, looking over at Dylan.

 

Dylan climbed onto the seat beside Sam and hung his head, shoulders shaking with his cries. 

 

“Where?” Sam asked, looking down at Dylan, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “What’s going on Dylan?”

 

“In the hotel,” Dylan whined, sniffling. He leaned his head against Sam’s chest, looking up at him. “There was a boy in the bathroom and Daddy doesn’t believe me. Mommy, do you believe me?”

 

Sam sighed and squeezed Dylan a little tighter, kissing the top of his head. “I didn’t see anybody in there, Dyl. Are you sure?” he asked gently.

 

Dylan nodded. “He-- he was in the bathtub, Mommy. I swear.”

 

“Did he say anything?” Sam asked.

 

“Sam,” Dean said warningly, “don’t encourage him.”

 

Dylan shook his head. “No. He--” Dylan hiccuped, “he was just there.”

 

Sam took a deep breath and kissed Dylan again, looking over at Dean. “What did he look like?” he asked eventually.

 

“He wasn’t right,” Dylan said, shaking his head. “He-- his eyes were red and out and his lips were--” he sniffled, “blue.” He shifted on the seat, climbing back onto Sam’s lap. “And Daddy won’t believe me.”

 

“Dylan, I didn’t see anybody,” Dean said again. “And neither did Sam. Did you, Sam?”

 

“No, I didn’t,” Sam answered, “but if Dylan said he did…then I believe him.” 

 

Dean rolled his eyes and looked up the waitress walked over to their table. 

 

“Are you ready to order?” she asked, smiling down at Dylan.

 

“Two waters and a Heineken,” Dean began, looking away from Sam and Dylan. “Chicken fajita roll-up, grilled chicken Italian salad and the chicken fingers from the kids menu. Steamed broccoli.”

 

“Is that everything?” the waitress asked, quickly jotting down what Dean had listed off.

 

“Yes,” Dean nodded. “Thank you.” The waitress nodded once and walked away from the table and Dean looked back over at Dylan and Sam. “There was nobody there, Dylan,” he said softly, trying to be gentle with him. “Okay?”

 

“But I saw him,” Dylan said, before sighing. “I know I did.”

 

“It’s okay, Dylan,” Sam assured him, holding him close. “It’s okay. Let’s just eat supper okay, and we’ll talk about it when we get back to the room? Okay? Is there anything else that you wanna talk about?”

 

Dylan shook his head. “Do you think Gus is okay?”

 

“Gus is fine,” Dean said quietly, picking at his napkin. He leaned back and shook his head.

 

* * * *

 

Sam leaned against the wall in the hallway, shifting Dylan in his arms. “You gonna check the bathroom?”

 

Dean looked back before opening the door, pushing it open. “Sam, we didn’t see anything in there.” He walked into the room, turning on the light.

 

“Dean, you and I know better than almost anyone,” Sam began, walking into the room behind Dean, “that there are things in this world that are there that we can’t see.” He closed the door behind them and looked over at Dean, who was opening the window. “So are you gonna check, or am I?” 

 

Dean shrugged. “I’m not checking, so you can go for it.”

 

Sam laid Dylan down on his bed, smiling down at him before walking over to the bathroom, flicking on the lights. He looked around the bright white room and walked over to the bathtub, pushing the curtain back. “Nothing,” he said softly, nodding. “Or nobody.” He walked out of the bathroom, turning the lights off. 

 

Dean lifted his head, raising an eyebrow. “Were you expecting there to really be a boy in there?”

 

Sam shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. It wouldn’t be the first time creepy dead people have showed up out of nowhere.” He sat down on the edge of Dylan’s bed and he reached up, fixing Dylan’s shirt. “You gotta wake up, Dylan,” he said quietly, shaking Dylan gently. “You gotta get ready for bed.”

 

“Just let him sleep,” Dean said. “He’s just gonna cry when he wakes up anyway.”

 

“You know you could be a little more supportive right now,” Sam told Dean as he stood up, walking to the head of Dylan’s bed. He began untucking the sheets and pulling them down.

 

Dean took a deep breath and sighed, scratching at his head. “So what do you think?”

 

“About what?” Sam asked, sitting down again to pull off Dylan’s sandals, dropping them onto the floor.

 

“About the boy in the bathroom,” Dean replied. “Obviously.” He pushed himself up, hovering beside Sam. “Blue lips, bulging red eyes…he’s dead. But I think the question is whether Dylan made him up or not.”

 

“When has Dylan ever seen a dead body?” Sam asked, lifting Dylan up, moving Dylan up by the pillows, laying him back down gently. He pulled the sheets up and leaned down, giving Dylan a kiss. “Never, that’s when,” he said quietly, smiling at Dylan.

 

“Danny watched Jaws,” Dean pointed out, “and told him about it. Maybe it’s not so much of a stretch to think that Danny saw like…Stand By Me or something and told Dyl about it.” He leaned down and kissed Dylan’s cheek, fixing his bed sheets. “I’m just asking, do you think there’s a spirit in our bathroom?”

 

Sam thought for a moment and stayed silent as he sat down on his and Dean’s bed, reaching down to untie his sneakers. He swallowed hard and looked up when Dean sat down beside him. “No,” he said eventually. “I don’t.”

 

“So there’s your answer,” Dean said, grabbing the remote.

 

“I didn’t ask a question,” Sam said quietly, but he just lied back on the bed anyway, looking over at Dylan.

 

“He’ll be fine,” Dean assured him, lying down beside Sam, propped up by the pillows and the headboard. “Now come on, let’s just watch something. He’ll be fine.”

 

Sam nodded and pushed himself up a little, resting his head against Dean.

 

* * * *

 

Sam closed his eyes as yet another clown walked by them and his hand tightened around Dylan’s.

 

“Okay, this is awesome,” Dean grinned, looking over at Sam. “Sam, they’re just people. In make-up.”

 

“We don’t know that they’re people,” Sam snapped. “That’s why they have make-up. To hide their…non-humanness.”

 

“I think they’re funny,” Dylan said, giggling when one of them began making faces down at him.

 

“Children,” Sam muttered, looking over at Dean.

 

“Sam, you’re a freak,” Dean said, reaching over to grab onto Sam’s hand. “Get over it. I have. But don’t worry, I won’t let any of the mean clowns hurt you.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes and yanked his hand out of Dean’s grip. “Stop making fun of me. You’re the reason that we have to drive everywhere.”

 

“Shut up,” Dean snapped. “Flying is a real fear.”

 

“Whatever,” Sam said, looking around. “You want something to eat Dylan? Cotton candy?”

 

“I want a candy apple,” Dylan answered.

 

“I don’t think so,” Sam said. “Might pull another tooth out or something.”

 

“He’s gonna lose ‘em anyway,” Dean pointed out, “may as well lose them eating candy. Come on Dyl, let’s go find you one. Sam, you can eat the cotton candy.”

 

“Can I get a balloon animal?” Dylan asked.

 

“Sure,” Sam replied.

 

“Can I get a real balloon too?” Dylan asked.

 

“Yeah, if you need both,” Sam nodded. He leaned down and lifted Dylan up into his arms, finding it much easier to walk without having to keep his eye on Dylan every second. “How’d you sleep last night? Comfy bed, huh?”

 

“It’s huge,” Dylan said, grinning at Sam, tongue poking out where he had already lost a tooth.

 

“Two candy apples and a cotton candy please,” Dean said to the woman, nodding at her once. “What color you want, Sammy?”

 

“Blue,” Sam replied, bouncing Dylan up in his arms, getting a better grip on him. “You’re having fun today though, right? It’s not so bad being away from home, is it?”

 

Dylan shook his head and grinned as Dean handed him his candy apple. “How do I eat it?”

 

“Just bite into it,” Sam said, chomping his teeth a couple times. “Be careful though.”

 

“Kay,” Dylan nodded, opening his mouth as wide as he could, trying to bite into the apple.

 

Dean lifted his finger up to Sam’s mouth, cotton candy on the end. 

 

Sam opened his mouth and ate the cotton candy, grinning around Dean’s finger. “Yummy.”

 

Dean snorted. “How could I not be?”

 

Sam rolled his eyes and grinned, leaning down a bit to give Dean a quick kiss. “I meant the cotton candy.”

 

“Yeah, right,” Dean smiled. “So you said something about balloons, huh Dylan?”

 

Dylan nodded eagerly. “Yeah, I want two.”

 

“Who are they for?” Dean asked as they began walking through the crowd.

 

Dylan stayed silent for a moment, before finally answering. “Me,” he said quietly.

 

“Okay,” Dean nodded, “just wondering. What do you want made?”

 

“I don’t know,” Dylan answered. “Uh…maybe a sword.”

 

“A sword would be pretty sweet,” Dean grinned. “Maybe I’ll get one, we can sword fight.”

 

“Cool!” Dylan exclaimed. “Mommy, would that be okay?”

 

“Yeah, of course,” Sam nodded. “I trust you Dylan.”

 

“What about me?” Dean asked.

 

Sam smiled and looked at Dean. “I said I trust Dylan.”

 

Dean punched Sam in the arm, finally finding a clown who was making balloon animals.

 

“Oh god,” Sam muttered, turning away from him, glaring at Dean.

 

“Do you make swords?” Dean asked the clown, who nodded, a huge grin on his face. “What about crowns?” The clown nodded again. “Alright then, you’re the guy I’m looking for. Two swords and a crown, please.”

 

“I hate you,” Sam said, reaching out to shove Dean a little.

 

Dean stuck his tongue out and winked at Dylan, who was smiling back. “Shut up, Sam. You’re the one getting the crown.”

 

* * * *

 

“Stop it,” Dylan whined, rolling around on the bed.

 

“Why?” Dean asked, kissing Sam again.

 

“It’s gross,” Dylan pouted, crossing his arms. “Stop kissing!”

 

Sam smiled against Dean’s lips and pulled him for another kiss, before finally stepping back from him, looking over at Dylan. “Oh Dylan, you’re such a kid.” He sat down on the edge of Dylan’s bed and crawled up the mattress to wrap his arms around Dylan. “Does it really bother you that much?”

 

“I’m bored,” Dylan groaned, wiggling in Sam’s arms. “I wanna do something.”

 

“We were just at the fair,” Sam pointed out. “Well, what do you wanna do?”

 

“Does this place have a pool?” Dylan asked.

 

Sam sighed. “Dylan, I’m kind of tired. I don’t wanna have to watch you all the time in the pool.”

 

“I’ll take him,” Dean offered. “You can just sleep poolside, honey.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes but stood up anyway, taking Dylan with him. “Go get changed into your trunks, Dyl,” he said, grabbing Dylan’s bag. “Daddy’ll change out here.”

 

“Kay,” Dylan nodded, hopping out of Sam’s arms, taking his bag into the bathroom with him.

 

Dean grabbed his swim trunks from his bag and laid them down on his bed, undoing his jeans. “You gonna come lie by the pool or are you gonna sleep up here?”

 

Sam shrugged. “May as well go with you. I just didn’t wanna have to swim with him.” He sat down on the bed and began nodding slowly to himself, rocking back and forth slightly.

 

Dean studied Sam carefully, frowning as he pulled on his shorts. “Hey Rainman, you okay?”

 

Sam nodded jerkily. “I don’t think I feel well.”

 

Dean automatically reached out, pressing his palm to Sam’s forehead. “No fever.”

 

Sam shook his head. “It’s my stomach.”

 

Dean moved his hand down, pressing his palm to Sam’s stomach. “No baby.”

 

Sam’s eyes shot up to Dean, glaring at him.

 

“So do you wanna stay here or not?” Dean asked, glancing at the bathroom door.

 

Sam shrugged. “Uh…I’ll just go with you,” he said eventually.

 

“Sure,” Dean nodded, walking over to the bathroom door. “Dylan! Hurry up!”

 

“Yeah,” Dylan said, opening the door. 

 

“You ready?” Dean asked, glancing over at Sam, who was standing up slowly.

 

Dylan nodded and grabbed onto Dean’s hand, waiting for Dean to open the door. “Are you coming, Mommy?”

 

“Yeah, just gimme a sec,” Sam nodded, making his way over to them. “I uh…you guys go ahead. I’m gonna get some money, get a drink.”

 

“Kay,” Dean said, almost leaning up to give Sam a kiss, before he remembered Dylan’s whining. “We’ll be waiting.”

 

Sam smiled and held the door open for the two of them, letting it close behind them. He took a deep breath and walked over to the small table, grabbing his wallet. He looked around the room and swallowed hard when his eyes fell upon the bathroom door. He walked over and turned on the light, gasping when he thought he saw someone in the corner. 

 

Clutching the door knob in his hand, Sam cleared his throat. “Christo,” and then there was a loud screech from the bathroom, so loud and piercing that Sam almost forgot to pull the door closed. He ran over to the table, grabbing the small packages, trying to figure out which ones were salt and which were sugar. Sam swallowed hard and dropped them all, simply grabbing one of the complimentary pens and ran back over to the door. He dropped to his knees and searched his mind, hand trembling as he began quickly sketching a devil’s trap on the door, by the handle. 

 

Sam stepped back slowly, examining the door, the sickly feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. He rubbed furiously at his eyes, as if trying to get rid of what he had seen. He grabbed a room key and opened the door, walking as quickly as he could down the hallway without actually running. At the bottom of the stairs, he took a deep breath, finally feeling the sense of nausea leaving his body. He smiled weakly and walked over to the vending machine, getting himself a bottle of orange juice. He walked down the hall and pushed open the door to the staircase, taking a drink as he made his way down. He pushed open the door to the pool and smiled when he saw Dylan and Dean. Dylan waved and Dean smiled back and Sam began to walk over to them. “Dylan, I gotta ask you something.”

 

Dylan swam as quickly as he could over to the edge of the pool, Dean walking behind him. “Yeah Mommy?”

 

“When you were in the bathroom today,” Sam began, glancing over at Dean, “did you see that boy again?”

 

“Sam, what are--” Dean began, but Sam just cut him off with a look.

 

“Dylan?” Sam asked.

 

Dylan glanced back at Dean before looking back up at Sam. “You said it wasn’t true.”

 

“I believe you now though, Dylan,” Sam assured him. “Did you see him today?”

 

Dylan nodded. “He was there when I brushed my teeth and when I peed and when I got changed. Did you see him too?”

 

Sam took a deep breath, looking back over at Dean, who was looking at him questioningly. “Yeah,” he admitted, “I did. Just now.”

 

“Sam, what are you talking about?” Dean demanded, swimming over to the pool edge, ready to push himself up.

 

“I think I got it taken care of,” Sam said. “For now, anyway. But we need to figure something out, once we get back up there.”

 

“I’m not going back up there,” Dean said, shaking his head, water trickling down from his hair onto his face. 

 

“Our stuff is in there, Dean,” Sam reminded him, “and we’d need a good reason to switch rooms now.”

 

“Uh, dead boy in the sink,” Dean said, pushing himself back a little, treading water. “I think that’s a good enough reason.”

 

“Bathtub,” Dylan corrected, looking up at Dean. “What’s it mean? Who is he?”

 

“We’ll figure it out,” Sam promised him. “For now, I just want you to swim, okay? Have fun.”

 

“Okay,” Dylan nodded, swimming away from Sam. 

 

Dean looked up at Sam, eyebrow raised.

 

“What?” Sam asked, meeting Dean’s glare.

 

“You really saw him?” Dean asked.

 

Sam nodded. “Yeah, in the shower. I said Christo and then there was a bloodcurdling scream. And it wasn’t from me,” he finished flatly.

 

Dean swallowed and glanced back at Dylan. “I don’t want him in that room.”

 

“Then what do you wanna do?” Sam asked, smiling over at Dylan. “You keep him here…I go do the research?”

 

Dean sighed and shook his head. “I can get another room that we can do research in. Keep the one we have now.”

 

Sam shook his head. “That sounds stupid. I’ll go get yours and Dylan’s clothes, you can change here. We’ll go…to the library or something. I’m sure there’s one around here somewhere. We’ll go out for supper then we’ll…well, we’ll do something.”

 

Dean pushed himself up a bit and gave Sam a quick kiss, before breaking apart. “Okay.” He swam slowly back over to Dylan, just hovering beside him, there to help if Dylan needed it.

 

Sam pushed himself back up and kept glancing over at Dean and Dylan as he made his way over to the door, pulling it open. He made sure he still had the room key and he began walking back up the stairs, trying hard to think.

 

* * * *

 

“Shh,” Dean said, playfully covering Dylan’s mouth with his hand. “It’s the library, you gotta be quiet.”

 

“Can’t we go outside?” Dylan asked, curling into Dean’s chest. “This place is boring.”

 

“We’ve gotta do something about the boy in the bathroom,” Dean explained, “and the rules of the library are that you gotta be quiet.” He kissed Dylan’s cheek, squeezing him close. “I don’t like the library either,” he whispered.

 

Sam sighed and looked over at them, trying to smile. “You guys should go do something. There’s a playground down the street.”

 

“Can we Daddy?” Dylan asked eagerly.

 

“Why don’t we just go find a book and read?” Dean offered, trying to grin.

 

“Fine,” Dylan muttered, climbing off of Dean’s lap.

 

Dean sighed and stood up, grasping onto Dylan’s hand. “Fine, we can go outside. Call me when you’re done, Sammy.”

 

Sam nodded absentmindedly. “Yeah, whatever.” He cleared his throat and straightened up, tapping a couple keys. He cracked his neck, looking around the empty library. He jumped a little when the librarian appeared out of the corner of his eye.

 

“Can I help you something?” she asked him.

 

Sam smiled and thought for a moment, looking down at the computer screen. “Uh…what do you know about the Georgian?”

 

“The hotel?” the librarian asked, trying to peer at Sam’s computer screen.

 

“Uh, yeah,” Sam answered, nodding his head jerkily. “How old is it?”

 

“The name Georgian has been attached to a hotel on that land for years,” the librarian began, sitting down in the chair that Dean and Dylan had been occupying, “since the early fifties. But that particular building was built around two thousand.”

 

Sam nodded to himself, smiling at the librarian. “How long have you lived here?”

 

“Since my late teens,” she replied. “So longer than you’ve been alive.”

 

Sam grinned and laughed softly. “Um…have you ever heard anything about like, a death in that building? Or on that land?”

 

The librarian sighed and thought for a moment, biting on her lip. “That’s an unusual question, but there’s been a couple.”

 

“Anything out of the ordinary?” Sam asked, really hoping that this was the type of librarian who was used to be asked weird questions.

 

“More than one construction worker,” the librarian smiled, shifting in her seat, “and since the pool was put in, a little boy drowned. But the Georgian isn’t famous for long stays, it’s usually just a spot in the road before they move on to the bigger hotels.”

 

“Yeah,” Sam breathed, nodding his head. “When did the little boy drown?”

 

The librarian peered at Sam from over her glasses, frowning at him. “It would’ve had to be…the pool was put in in two thousand and one, it was a couple of years after that at least.”

 

Sam smiled. “Thank you.” He stared down at his fingers on the keyboard, waiting for the librarian to leave before he went back to Google. He typed in what he thought would work and let out a sigh of relief when he saw a link to a local newspaper. “Beau Pace, seven years old, was found floating face down in the new pool of the Georgian Hotel on Saturday.” He scanned the page quickly, mouthing words to himself. “His parents say they don’t know how he got downstairs without them noticing.” He rolled his eyes. “I think I’d notice Dylan was gone,” he muttered. He pushed his chair back and turned off the computer, patting his pockets as he smiled thankfully at the librarian, pushing the door open, stepping outside. He looked around and saw Dean sitting on the curb, watching Dylan, who was poking at something with a stick. “I thought that you were going to the park.”

 

“Dylan got distracted,” Dean explained, gesturing to the ground.

 

Sam walked over and saw what Dylan was poking at. “Is that a snake?”

 

“It’s dead,” Dylan said, looking up at him, “and it’s just little.”

 

“Did he touch it?” Sam demanded.

 

Dean shook his head. “I was the one who got him the stick. He’s just been…poking at it.”

 

“Dylan, stop it,” Sam said, reaching down to grab the stick out of Dylan’s hand. “That’s-- it’s just not nice, okay? That used to be alive. I don’t want you poking at it.”

 

“Sorry,” Dylan apologized, walking back over to Dean.

 

Sam sighed and shoved his hands in his jeans, looking around. “Well, I figured out who it was and what happened, so we can go now.”

 

“What are we going to do?” Dean asked, standing up, lifting Dylan up with him. 

 

Sam shook his head and opened the door to the Impala, watching Dean help Dylan into his booster seat. “I don’t know. He drowned, in two thousand and three. He was seven. I don’t know what he wants though.”

 

“Revenge?” Dean asked, lifting his head.

 

Sam shrugged, closing the door. “I don’t know. He drowned. His parents said they don’t know how he got down there.” Dean made a face and looked into the back of the car. “Yeah, I know,” Sam said. “I’d know too.”

 

“Well he obviously wants something,” Dean said, climbing into the Impala. “We just gotta ask him what it is.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes and opened the car door. “Easier said than done.”

 

* * * *

 

“Holy…shit,” Dean said, looking around the hotel room. 

 

“What happened?” Dylan asked, eyes wide, looking at the mess. “Our clothes exploded, Daddy.”

 

Sam looked at the bathroom door, where the piece of wood with the devil’s trap had been blown off. He sighed. “I guess that didn’t help.”

 

“You really thought he’d use the handle?” Dean asked, looking at Sam in disbelief. “Besides, you drew it on the wrong side.” 

 

Sam sighed when he realized that Dean was right and he shook his head. “Sorry,” he said quietly.

 

Dean shifted Dylan in his arms, walking further into the room, moving their clothes out of the way with his feet. “This place looks like shit.”

 

“Daddy,” Dylan whined. “Stop saying that.”

 

“Sorry,” Dean said, looking over at Sam. “Now what?”

 

“He could be gone,” Sam pointed out, opening the bathroom door. He looked inside, swallowing hard. “We gotta find him.”

 

“Find the little dead boy?” Dean repeated. “Um, no. We’re going to leave.”

 

“What if he was murdered?” Sam asked.

 

“Maybe he fell in!” Dean exclaimed. “Sam, it’s been ten years. We have no chance of tracing his parents now. They’re probably not even from around here.”

 

“He’s at the pool,” Sam said, ignoring Dean. “If he left this room, he’s in the pool.”

 

“Why was he in our room?” Dylan asked, looking back and forth between Sam and Dean.

 

“I…” Sam shook his head, “I don’t know. Because of your age, maybe. You’re close to how old he was when he died.” He looked over at Dean. “Are you coming with me?”

 

“Where?” Dean asked.

 

“The pool!” Sam cried. “God, Dean! Are you even paying attention?” He had his hand on the door handle, looking at Dean expectantly.

 

“What are you going to do?” Dean asked.

 

“I don’t know,” Sam admitted, opening the door. “But that’s the only place he’d go. He’s got our attention now, doesn’t he?”

 

“Fine,” Dean muttered, holding Dylan a little closer, a little tighter. He followed Sam out of the room, hurrying down the hallway behind him, going a bit slower on the stairs. “You just do whatever we say, Dyl, okay?”

 

“Okay,” Dylan agreed, clutching at Dean’s shirt.

 

Sam pushed open the door to the staircase, already smelling the chlorine. He gripped the railing as he hurried down the stairs, pushing open the door to the pool. He sniffed the air and instantly gagged, the unfortunately too familiar smell of death in the air. “Oh god,” he muttered, finally looking at the pool. From where they were standing, he could see the outline of a body at the bottom of the pool.

 

Dean looked at Sam, who had frozen in his spot and he kissed Dylan quickly, leaning down to let him out of his arms. “Stay there, Dylan!” he yelled as he ran to the edge of the pool, not even pausing before he dove in.

 

“Dean!” Sam yelled, stepping towards the pool as he grabbed onto Dylan’s arm.

 

The chlorine stung Dean’s eyes as he looked around the bottom of the pool, trying to spot Beau again. He swam up to the top and took a deep breath before going under again, seeing Beau’s body this time, floating slowly back up to the top. Dean grabbed onto Beau’s arm and yanked him up to the surface. He took a deep breath and lifted Beau’s rotting body onto the pool ledge, squeezing his eyes shut, trying not to breathe it in too much. Dean swam a bit away from the body and pushed himself up out of the water, his soaked jeans heavy on his body. “There!” he yelled, looking down at Beau. “I saved you! We saved you! What else do you want?” He yelled as Beau’s body exploded and he threw his arms up, covering his face. 

 

“Dean,” Sam said, hurrying over to that side of the pool. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly. 

 

Dean slowly brought his arms down, looking at where Beau had just been lying. He looked around and examined his arms, all trace of Beau gone. “Wow,” he said breathlessly, looking over at Dylan. “It’s okay, Dylan. I promise.” He looked up at Sam. “There. It’s done. I did what he wanted. Can we check out yet?” He walked by Sam back over to Dylan, grasping onto his hand. “Let’s go pack, Dylan.”

 

“Daddy, what was that?” Dylan asked, looking up at Dean. “Why’d you do that?”

 

Dean sighed and shook his head and torso, sending water everywhere. “A little boy drowned in that pool, Dylan. I had to go save him.” He smiled at Dylan, ruffling Dylan’s hair.

 

“Is he okay now though?” Dylan asked, glancing back at Sam.

 

Dean nodded slowly, helping Dylan walk up the stairs. He looked back at Sam, smiling weakly. “Yeah, Dylan, he’s okay. I guess that’s all he wanted, was someone to save him.”


	14. Chapter 14

Title: Look What Love Has Done - Volume 3 - Chapter 14r32;Pairing: Sam/Deanr32;Disclaimer: Not miner32;Rating: R this chapterr32;Summary: After Sam and Dean discuss Dylan's growing up, Dylan starts to take after Dean a bit too much.r32;Author's Note: Forget volume one, forget volume two; this is volume three 

 

six years, eleven months and nine days old

 

“You want one of us to walk you in?” Sam asked, reaching down to undo his seatbelt.

 

“I’m okay,” Dylan said, undoing his seatbelt. He reached over and grabbed his backpack, smiling up at Sam and Dean. “Have fun at work, Daddy,” he said, pushing the car door open. 

 

“Have fun at school, sonny,” Dean smiled, nodding his head to the quiet music on the radio.

 

“Love ya, Mommy!” Dylan yelled, waving at Sam.

 

Sam stuck his hand out the car window and waved, smiling at Dylan. “Have a good day!”

 

“Okay!” Dylan called back, running up the sidewalk to catch up with a couple of his friends.

 

Sam sighed and settled into his seat, watching Dylan disappear into the school. He looked over at Dean, who was watching him expectantly. “What?” he asked.

 

“He is almost seven, you know,” Dean said.

 

“So?” Sam asked, pulling away from the curb slowly. 

 

“So soon, he’s not even gonna let us drive him to school, let alone go in with him,” Dean explained. “You just gotta let the kid grow up, Sam.”

 

Sam pulled out of the school parking lot and sighed, turning left. “What are we going to do for his birthday?”

 

“What are we going to do for yours?” Dean asked. “You’re almost one year older too.”

 

“Shut up,” Sam muttered. “We’re not doing anything. Last year’s birthday was adventurous enough. And besides, we had fun on your birthday, we don’t need to have fun on mine.”

 

“I’ve decided I don’t want to celebrate my birthday next year,” Dean said, glancing over at Sam. “I’m getting too old, Sam.”

 

“No, you’re not,” Sam assured him, even though they’d have this conversation more than once. “Dean, thirty-five is not old. And thirty-six won’t be either.”

 

“I have a theory,” Dean began. “If I just stop acknowledging the birthdays, then maybe people will forgot how old I really am.” He sighed, leaning back in his seat. “Sammy, why couldn’t I be the younger brother?”

 

“Oh god,” Sam muttered, shaking his head. “If you were thirty, you’d still be complaining. Dean, you’re not old. Okay? You’re just…older. And we weren’t talking about you. We were talking about Dylan.”

 

“Dylan doesn’t know what it means to be old,” Dean muttered. “And neither do you.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Sam exclaimed. “Dean, I-- why does he have to grow up? Why does he have to get older? It’s not fair.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes and reached over, patting Sam’s shoulder. “Sam, it’s fine. He’s only six. Almost seven. But only six. He’s not gonna move out for at least another eleven years.” He reached down and turned the radio up a little, looking over when Sam turned the radio off. “What now?” Dean asked.

 

Sam sighed and quickly glanced in the rear view mirror before he pulled the car off the street, driving into an empty parking lot. “I want another one.”

 

Dean jerked in his seat as Sam pulled the car to a stop and he took a deep breath. “Another what?” he asked, staring straight ahead.

 

Sam huffed and rolled his eyes, turning the key in the ignition. “I want another baby.”

 

Dean looked over at Sam, trying not to laugh. “Uh, yeah. Okay. And how exactly do you intend on getting this new baby? We did all that work to get rid of Rosier, and you wanna try and bring him back?”

 

Sam swallowed hard and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “No,” he said quietly, fingers flexing around the steering wheel. “But…I just…” He sniffled and turned the ignition on, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. “You’re right.”

 

Dean sighed and undid his seatbelt, pushing himself up in his seat, moving closer to Sam. “Sam, it would be great to have another baby.” He kissed Sam’s cheek and wrapped an arm around Sam’s neck, pulling him in. “It really would. But they would never be as perfect as Dylan.”

 

Sam smiled weakly and nodded, reaching up to rub at his eyes. “Yeah.”

 

“Yeah,” Dean breathed, kissing Sam again. “We’re happy, right?”

 

Sam nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

 

“Good,” Dean said, sitting back in his seat. “Besides,” he began as he buckled his seatbelt, “we’re gonna have enough trouble raising the one we have. You wanna explain to two kids that we’re brothers?”

 

Sam shook his head. “No. I just…I don’t want Dylan to grow up, I guess.” He pulled slowly out of the parking lot, looking over at Dean apologetically. “Stupid, huh?”

 

“You think I want him to grow up?” Dean asked. “Sam, he’s our kid. He’s my son. But we kinda gotta let him.” He sighed and reached over, ruffling Sam’s hair, grinning. “Now are you gonna get me to work anytime soon or what?”

 

Sam smiled and pressed his foot down on the gas a little. “Shut up, or I take you back home.”

 

Dean nodded slowly, reaching over to turn the radio back on. “It’ll be fine, Sammy. You really wanna go through midnight feedings and-- and first fevers again?”

 

Sam laughed once and shook his head. “I barely made it through the first time.”

 

* * * *

 

Dylan pumped his legs, trying to go as high as he could.

 

“Dylan!”

 

Dylan looked down and stopped his legs, smiling at his friend. “Hi, Matthew!” he waved and started pumping his legs again.

 

“You gotta come hear this!” Matthew called up at him. “Dakota’s making fun of your parents!”

 

“Why?” Dylan asked, stopping his legs again.

 

Matthew shrugged and waited for Dylan to slow down a bit before running up closer. “He’s calling them names.”

 

Dylan jumped off his swing and started following Matthew over to one of the slides. He sighed and saw Dakota sitting at the bottom, a couple of his friends around him. “What’s he saying?” he asked, nudging Matthew.

 

Matthew shrugged again. “I don’t know. I don’t get it.”

 

Dylan walked over to the slide, crossing his arms. “Hi, Dakota.”

 

Dakota looked up and his friends began to laugh quietly. “Oh, hi Dylan.”

 

“Why are you making fun of my parents?” Dylan asked, glancing back at Matthew. 

 

“Because they’re gay,” Dakota said, smiling over at his friends. 

 

“What’s that mean?” Dylan asked quietly.

 

Dakota smiled again. “My older brother saw your parents drop you off once and they kissed. He said that means they’re gay.”

 

“They’re not gay,” Dylan said, even though he still didn’t know what that meant.

 

Dakota jumped up off the slide and walked over to Dylan, looking down at him. “Are you saying that my brother’s wrong?”

 

Dylan thought for a moment, before nodding. “Yeah, I am.”

 

“He isn’t,” Dakota said, shaking his head. “You know what else he said? He said that they’re…faggots too.”

 

“You don’t even know what that means,” Dylan said, glaring at Dakota.

 

“Neither do you,” Dakota pointed out, reaching out to shove Dylan.

 

“Don’t push me!” Dylan cried, stumbling backwards a bit.

 

Dakota laughed. “Why? Is the little baby gonna cry? Maybe you’re gay too.”

 

“I’m not gay,” Dylan said, shaking his head.

 

“Maybe you are,” Dakota said. “If both of your parents are, maybe you are too. Maybe you’re a faggot.”

 

“Stop calling me names!” Dylan yelled.

 

“Why?” Dakota asked, pushing Dylan again. “Are you worried that people will find out how gay you are?”

 

“I’m not gay,” Dylan whined, stomping his foot. “You know what?”

 

Dakota laughed and rolled his eyes, glancing back at his friends. “What?”

 

Dylan took a deep breath and looked up at Dakota. “I think that you’re gay.”

 

Matthew dropped his jaw, staring at Dylan in disbelief.

 

“Did you just call me gay?” Dakota asked, stepping even closer to Dylan.

 

Dylan nodded. “Yeah, I did.”

 

“Your parents are faggots, Dylan!” Dakota yelled.

 

“Shut up!” Dylan yelled back, shoving Dakota.

 

“Dylan, stop it,” Matthew said, stepping up to him.

 

“Faggots!” Dakota screamed, reaching out to shove Dylan again, but before he could, Dylan brought his fist back, punching Dakota in the face.

 

“Dylan!” Matthew screamed, reaching out to grab Dylan’s arm, trying to yank him away from Dakota. “He is going to kill you.”

 

“You little brat!” Dakota yelled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He pushed Dylan down, hard enough for him to fall to the ground.

 

* * * *

 

“The Doors,” Dean murmured, scanning the CDs in front of him. “Wh-- where…” he sighed and turned around, wondering if it had gotten mixed up. “Doors…ah! Doors.” He reached out and grabbed the CD, putting it back where it belonged. “Not by Bob Dylan.” He smiled to himself, thumbing the word ‘Dylan’ and sighed. “You could’ve been named Hendrix, kiddo.” He moved on down the row, looking up when the phone began to rang. He sighed and walked back up to the counter, grabbing the phone. “Music Alley, how may I help you?” He walked around the counter, sitting down. “This is he. Is something wrong?” He tapped his pen against the counter, listening to the man on the other end of the line. “Uh, n-- no, I don’t think that’ll be a problem. Sure. One of us will be there. Thank you for calling. I’m sorry for the disturbance.” He set the phone down and grabbed his cell, dialing Sam’s number.

 

Sam groaned softly and pulled his sheets above his head, trying to get back to sleep. 

 

“Samuel Winchester, pick up,” Dean muttered, tapping his foot.

 

Sam sighed and threw the sheets off of him, glaring at the phone. He picked it up, answering it. “Hello?” he asked, yawning loudly.

 

“Were you sleeping?” Dean asked.

 

Sam moaned as he stretched his arms, nodding slowly. “Uh…yeah. I was. What’s going on?”

 

“Why are you sleeping?” Dean asked.

 

“Because Dylan woke me up last night,” Sam answered, lying back down. “He had nightmare.”

 

Dean frowned and spun on his feet. “How did you hear that?” 

 

“How did you not?” Sam asked. He took a deep breath and yawned again. “What’s going on? Why’d you call?”

 

“Why does the school have the store’s number?” Dean asked, examining the forms in front of him.

 

“Just in case our cell phones didn’t work,” Sam answered, pulling the sheets back up. “I wanted them to have a number that’ll always work. Why? Did the school call?”

 

“Uh, yeah,” Dean replied. “They did. We need to go pick up Dylan.”

 

Sam sat up quickly and threw the sheets off of him. “Why?” he asked, grabbing his jeans off the floor. “Is he okay? What’s going on?”

 

“Apparently he got into a fight,” Dean replied, picking up the store phone, keeping his cell up to his ear. He dialed Bob’s number and brought the receiver up to his ear.

 

“He what?” Sam asked, hopping up and down, trying to get into his jeans. 

 

“Yeah, hold on a sec, Sam,” Dean said, taking his cell away from his ear. “Hi, Bob? What are you doing? Yeah well that’s great, Bob, didn’t ask for your whole life story. Can you come in?” He rolled his eyes and picked up his cell again. “He got into a fight, Sam,” he repeated, taking the phone away again. “Dylan got into a fight at school Bob, I need to go. Okay, fine. Thank you.” He hung up the store phone and almost turned off his cell phone before he remembered that Sam was still on the line. 

 

“What do you mean he got into a fight?” Sam asked, pulling on his shirt.

 

“I mean what I said,” Dean answered, “Dylan got into a fight.”

 

“Is he okay?” Sam asked, walking out of the bedroom.

 

“They didn’t say,” Dean replied, walking out from behind the counter, “but since they didn’t mention calling an ambulance or the police, I can only imagine that he is.”

 

“I’m coming to get you,” Sam said, grabbing his car keys, sliding his feet into his sneakers. “Can you get off?”

 

“I called Bob,” Dean nodded, “and he’s coming in to take my place.”

 

Sam sighed and walked outside, going down the driveway to the car. “Do I have to hurry?” He climbed into the Impala, sticking the key in the ignition.

 

“Well I don’t suggest making any stops along the way!” Dean exclaimed.

 

“Sorry,” Sam muttered, rolling his eyes. He pulled out of the driveway and only once he was on the road did he actually remember to do his seatbelt. “Can I let you go now?”

 

“Just hurry up,” Dean said, before turning off his phone.

 

Sam sighed and turned his phone off, dropping it onto the passenger seat, pressing his foot down a little harder on the gas.

 

* * * *

 

Dean jumped up a bit, looking out one of the front windows, patting Bob on the shoulder. “If I can Bob, I will come back in, I swear.”

 

“Dean, you’re coming in for me tomorrow,” Bob said gruffly, not even looking at Dean. “And tell the kid to punch hard next time, then run. He’s what, seven?”

 

“Almost,” Dean said automatically, grabbing his cell from the counter. He felt his stomach sink a bit when he realized that tomorrow was Saturday, but he just shook it off, giving Bob one last quick wave, before pulling the door open. He jogged over to the driver side and tapped a couple of times on the hood. “Out of the car, Sammy.”

 

“But I’m already driving,” Sam pointed out, looking out of the rolled down window.

 

“And you drive like a frigging girl,” Dean said, opening the car. “Hurry up, I can get us there in half the time.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes and undid his seatbelt and reached over, picking up his phone before sliding across the seat, looking over at Dean.

 

“Thank you,” Dean said, climbing into the car. He closed the door and did his seatbelt and was out of the parking lot before Sam did his seatbelt back up, and he only smiled when Sam jarred against the door when he pulled to a quick stop. “Sammy, you’ve been driving with me nineteen years and you still don’t fucking know how I do it? Put your seatbelt on, you idiot.”

 

Sam snorted but couldn’t help his grin as he did his seatbelt. “Sorry, I just assumed you might’ve slowed down in your…old age.”

 

“Wash your mouth out with soap,” Dean murmured, speeding down the street.

 

* * * *

 

Dean smiled down at the secretary. “Uh, hi, we’re the Winchesters. I was called at work, our son Dylan is--”

 

“Right through there,” the secretary said, pointing to one of the office’s behind here. 

 

Dean smiled his thanks and reached back, grasping onto Sam’s hand, leading him past the secretary’s desk, taking a deep breath before knocking lightly on the door. “Come in!” the principal called and Dean nodded at him politely as they walked in, smiling over at Mr Daylin. 

 

“Daddy,” Dylan whined, climbing off of his chair, running over to his parents.

 

Sam closed the door behind them and Dean knelt down, examining Dylan’s face, running his thumb over Dylan’s swollen busted lip and studying the beginnings of a bruise on his cheek. “What happened, Pickle?” Dean asked, pulling Dylan in for a hug.

 

“Dylan,” Sam said in surprise, finally seeing Dylan’s face. He crouched down beside Dean. “Are you okay? Who did this?”

 

Dylan sniffled and pulled back from Dean, wrapping an arm around Sam’s neck. “It just hurts a little, Mommy.”

 

Sam kissed Dylan’s cheek, holding him close. “Are you okay though?”

 

Dylan nodded. “I think so.”

 

Sam and Dean both stood up, Sam grasping onto Dylan’s hand.

 

“Why don’t you sit down?” the principal asked, gesturing at Dylan’s empty seat and the one Mr Daylin was occupying.

 

Mr Daylin moved to stand but Dean just waved his hand, leaning against the other chair that Sam was sitting down in, pulling Dylan onto his lap.

 

“What happened?” Sam asked, letting Dylan climb around his lap, trying to get comfortable.

 

“Dylan was in a fight on the playground,” the principal answered. “He and another student got physical by one of the slides.”

 

“It’s okay, Dyl,” Sam said softly, kissing Dylan’s temple, holding him tightly. 

 

“So what happened Dylan?” Dean asked, reaching down to ruffle Dylan’s hair. “You okay, buddy?”

 

Dylan nodded. “He was just saying mean things. So I hit him.”

 

“Dylan!” Sam cried in surprise and Dean’s jaw dropped before he began to laugh.

 

“Haha, yes, Dylan!” Dean exclaimed. “Throwing the first punch, you are definitely my ki--” He stopped talking when the principal cleared his throat and Mr Daylin began shaking his head. “Dylan, we’re going to talk about this later.”

 

“You punched him?” Sam asked in disbelief.

 

Dylan nodded. “But Mommy, you didn’t hear what he was saying!” he said quickly.

 

“You’ll have plenty of time to tell them on the drive home, Dylan,” the principal said.

 

“So is he like, suspended?” Dean asked, looking over at Mr Daylin.

 

Mr Daylin shook his head. “Mr Kane here just thinks it’d be better if both Dylan and Dakota went home early today. Since it’s almost the weekend and all…we thought that you two could take better care of him than us.”

 

Dean nodded understandingly. “So like, who the hell is this Dakota kid? And what was he saying?”

 

“I heard him yelling gay slurs at the top of his lungs,” Mr Daylin replied quietly.

 

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes, looking up at Dean. “Great,” he muttered, standing up, lifting Dylan into his arms. “Okay well, thank you for dealing with this for us. We’ll uh…deal with the rest of it, I guess.”

 

“Thank you both,” Dean said, reaching over to shake Mr Kane’s hand, then turning to shake Mr Daylin’s. “See you on Monday then.” He reached down and grabbed Dylan’s backpack.

 

Sam looked back at Dean as they walked out of the office, eyebrow raised.

 

Dean sighed and shrugged, reaching out to grab onto Sam’s hand.

 

“What do you wanna do with the rest of your day, Dylan?” Sam asked, waiting for Dean to get the door. “Did you eat yet or what?”

 

Dylan nodded. “Mommy, my face hurts. And so does my bum.”

 

“We’re gonna get you home and you’ll get a nice bath, Dylan,” Sam said quietly, walking alongside Dean to the car. “Do you wanna go get something to eat? Have you eaten yet, Dean?”

 

“Dylan just said he already ate,” Dean pointed out, opening the car door for Sam, watching him put Dylan in his booster seat. 

 

“Did you though?” Sam asked, climbing into the front seat.

 

“Did you?” Dean asked, sticking the key in the ignition.

 

“I was sleeping,” Sam reminded him.

 

“Let’s just go to McDonald’s or something,” Dean said, pulling out of the parking lot.

 

“What did you eat Dylan?” Sam asked, glancing into the backseat.

 

“My snack,” Dylan replied, rubbing at his eye.

 

“Dylan, I don’t want you to rub that eye,” Sam said, reaching back to gently grasp onto Dylan’s hand. “Were you punched there too?”

 

“I think so,” Dylan nodded, sighing quietly. He let his head drop back as he watched the buildings go by. “What’s a faggot?” he asked.

 

Almost instantly, Dean was acutely aware of the dull ache in his ankle, and Sam looked down at his right hand, flexing his fingers. “It’s a bad word, Dylan,” Dean said, glancing in the rear view mirror.

 

Dylan nodded. “That’s what Dakota said. He said that and gay. What’s gay? Is that a bad word too?”

 

“I guess it depends on how it’s used, Dylan,” Sam said, looking into the backseat. He sighed and looked over at Dean. “McDonald’s please.”

 

Dean nodded once and pulled to a stop at the red light. “At your command.”

 

* * * *

 

“Fry please,” Dylan said, turning in the tub, opening his mouth.

 

Sam smiled and popped the fry in Dylan’s mouth, picking his soda up. 

 

“Lean forward a bit, Dylan,” Dean said, shifting on the tiled floor. He frowned, reaching out, lightly pressing his fingers to a bruise on Dylan’s back. 

 

“Ow, Daddy,” Dylan whined, jerking a little.

 

“Sorry kiddo,” Dean said quietly, pressing a kiss to the top of Dylan’s head. “Anywhere else hurt?”

 

“My head,” Dylan answered, looking up at Dean.

 

“Well I doubt you’ve got a concussion or anything,” Dean said, “the kid was only ten. I’ll give you something when you’re out of the tub, kay?”

 

Dylan nodded and reached over, grabbing the facecloth. “Mommy, can I have a chicken nugget?”

 

“Sam, why didn’t he just eat before he got in the bath?” Dean asked, looking back at Sam.

 

Sam shrugged, reaching over with the chicken nugget in his hand, waiting for Dylan to take a bit before pulling back. “Let the kid eat in the tub, Dean.” He watched and waited for Dylan to swallow before giving him the rest of the chicken nugget. “Yummy, huh, Dylan?”

 

Dylan nodded and pulled the facecloth back, examining it. “There’s blood, where’s it from?”

 

Dean turned and examined Dylan, sighing. “Your lip is bleeding again, Dyl. He got ya good right there.”

 

Dylan nodded. “You should see him.”

 

Sam laughed and gave Dylan another fry, reaching to grab Dylan’s juice. 

 

“So…” Dean glanced back at Sam, before leaning down a bit, “what did you do to him?” he asked quietly.

 

“I punched him,” Dylan said, looking up at Dean. “And I called him gay.”

 

Dean sighed. “I’ll condone the punching, but I don’t want you to call anybody gay anymore. It can be offensive.”

 

“Yep,” Dylan nodded.

 

Dean leaned down and kissed Dylan’s head. “Promise?”

 

Dylan nodded. “Sure thing.” He looked up at Dean, eyes full of worry. “I almost used my mind thing to throw something at him.”

 

“Yeah?” Dean asked, gently running the facecloth over Dylan’s back. 

 

“It was hard not to,” Dylan continued, “but I didn’t.”

 

Dean kissed the top of Dylan’s head. “I’m proud of you for that, Dyl.”

 

Sam smiled faintly. “Yeah, me too.”

 

* * * *

 

Sam leaned forward on the couch and tried to look down the hallway. “Do we tell him?”

 

“He asked,” Dean pointed out, “and I think that letting him know this now might make it easier when he tell him…the rest, when he’s older.”

 

“He’s only six!” Sam exclaimed, glancing back down the hallway.

 

“He already knows that you’re different!” Dean cried back. 

 

Sam stared at Dean, eyebrow raised. “That I’m…different? What the hell do you mean?”

 

“He asked me once,” Dean began, shifting on the couch, “like, more than a year ago. His first time trick-or-treating! He said that you were a boy and everybody else’s mommy was a girl. And if it like, meant anything or something, I guess.”

 

“What’d you tell him?” Sam asked.

 

“I told him that mommies and daddies were just different,” Dean answered. “Then he asked me about Danny’s mom.”

 

“Are you dressed yet, Dylan?” Sam called, leaning back again.

 

“Almost!” Dylan yelled back, opening his door just a crack.

 

“Okay!” Sam yelled, sitting back down on the couch. “Okay. So we tell him that we’re gay. And what that means and that it is different from other people.”

 

“He’s going to ask if he’s gay,” Dean said, pushing himself up off the couch.

 

“We tell him that we don’t really know yet,” Sam said, standing up.

 

“That sounds weird,” Dean said, shifting on his feet. “Like, really weird. We tell him that…no, we ask him if there’s anybody at school that he likes.” He stopped talking when Dylan walked back up the hallway, and he smiled at him. “So you wanna go outside, Dyl?”

 

“Sure,” Dylan said, dragging the towel behind him as he walked past them, going to the bathroom.

 

* * * *

 

Sam looked over at Dean, who was watching Dylan carefully. He cleared his throat and reached his hand out to Dylan. “Dyl?”

 

“Yeah?” Dylan asked, looking back at his parents.

 

“We gotta talk to you, Dylan,” Sam answered, “and it’s really important, okay?”

 

Dylan nodded and looked around the backyard. “Okay.”

 

“Come sit then,” Sam said, grasping onto Dylan’s hand, leading him back over.

 

Dylan sat down on the grass, looking up at Sam and Dean expectantly. “Is it about what Dakota said?”

 

Sam grinned and nodded. “It is, you’re right.”

 

Dylan shifted on the grass and nodded. “So, what’s gay mean?”

 

Sam looked over at Dean. “I’ll handle this one,” he murmured, before looking back at Dylan. “Okay, gay is…gay means what type of people you like.”

 

Dean frowned and looked over at Sam. “What?” he asked.

 

“Shut up,” Sam snapped, trying to smile at Dylan. “See, Daddy and I are both boys, right?”

 

“Right,” Dylan agreed, looking over at Dean. “Is this going to be confusing?”

 

“I hope not,” Sam answered. “So, Daddy and I are both boys and we love each other. A lot. And since we’re boys and we love each other, that makes us gay.”

 

“So Dakota was right?” Dylan asked. “You’re gay?”

 

Sam nodded. “Yeah, he was right. But he was being mean about it. Your father and I are gay.” He nodded once, smiling at Dylan.

 

“So,” Dylan thought for a moment, looking up at Sam, “is that important?”

 

“Yeah,” Sam said quietly, “I think, it is. But it’s important no matter who or what you are. Daddy and I aren’t more important than people who aren’t gay, but it’s different.”

 

“Is everybody gay?” Dylan asked.

 

Sam shook his head. “No. There are gay people and straight people, mainly. If you’re a boy and you like boys, you’re gay. If you’re a girl and you like girls, you’re gay. So what do you think straight means?”

 

“If you’re a boy who likes girls?” Dylan asked, reaching up to scratch at his neck. “Mommy, I don’t like this, I think it’s confusing.”

 

Sam sighed. “Dylan, I know it’s probably confusing and maybe you’re just too young to hear it, but Daddy and I are different than a lot of other people’s parents. Most mommies are girls, and I’m not. I just…I want you to realize that we’re different. That I’m different. Are you following?”

 

Dylan shrugged. “I don’t know. Why is it important?”

 

“Because some people don’t like gay people,” Dean answered, looking over at Sam. “Some do, some don’t care, but there are still people who don’t like gay people. Okay?”

 

Dylan nodded. “Like Dakota?”

 

“Maybe,” Sam said. “He’s just a kid, I think he was just repeating what his brother said. But some people really don’t like who we are, Dylan. That’s why it’s important.”

 

“Okay,” Dylan said quietly. “I get it. What about the other word?”

 

Sam looked over at Dean pleadingly, and Dean nodded once, reaching out to Dylan, lifting and pulling him onto his lap.

 

“You mean the word faggot, right?” Dean asked gently, wrapping his arms around Dylan.

 

Dylan nodded. “Yeah, what’s that mean?”

 

“Well, I’m not actually sure where it came from, or what it really means,” Dean began, “but it’s a name, that people use to insult gay people. Or that’s what it used to be, and that’s still how a lot people think of it. I’m sure that some people use it without meaning to be mean, but that’s not…Dylan, I just really don’t want you to ever use that word, okay?”

 

“I promise,” Dylan answered. He looked back at Sam. “Did somebody call you guys that once?”

 

Sam’s eyes widened and his head shot up, looking over at Dean.

 

Dean swallowed hard, meeting Sam’s eyes, before nodding slowly. “Yeah, somebody did. Way long ago, before you were even born. Me and Mommy went to the movies and there were these guys there and they…they didn’t like us because we were gay. And they called us that name and then they beat us up.”

 

“Like Dakota beat me up?” Dylan asked, lifting his head.

 

Dean nodded. “But way worse. Sam, give Dylan your hand.”

 

Sam sighed and looked down at his right hand before reaching over to Dylan, letting Dylan grab onto his hand.

 

“See those scars?” Dean asked softly, guiding Dylan’s fingers over Sam’s knuckles.

 

Dylan nodded slowly.

 

“And feel some of the bumps?” Dean continued. “A man stepped on this hand, and broke almost all of the bones in it.”

 

Dylan drew his hand back from Sam’s and looked up at Sam, meeting his eyes. “I’m sorry, Mommy.”

 

Sam smiled and leaned down, kissing Dylan’s forehead. “It’s okay.”

 

“And you know how I limp sometimes?” Dean asked, leaning down to pull up the hem of his jeans.

 

Dylan nodded and turned around, looking at where Dean had pulled his jeans up. 

 

“They broke my ankle that night,” Dean said. “That’s why I limp. And finally,” he took Dylan’s hand in his and led it to the back of his head, “they broke my skull. Feel how it’s really bumpy there?”

 

“It’s weird,” Dylan said, pushing himself up, getting a better feel. “They broke your skull?”

 

Dean nodded. “Yup. And both of our noses. Because we were gay. I was unconscious for almost two weeks because of it. That’s why it’s important, Dylan. That’s why we wanted you to know. But you know, a lot of people don’t care. Michael and Paula don’t care, Todd doesn’t treat us differently. And we don’t want you to treat us differently, either.”

 

“I wouldn’t,” Dylan said, leaning back against Dean’s chest. He sighed and snuggled into Dean’s arms, reaching up to feel his swollen lip. “Was I beat up because I’m gay?”

 

Dean laughed softly and looked over at Sam, who was smiling weakly. “Well no, I think you were beat up because you pushed Dakota and called him gay. Besides…I’m not sure if you are gay. Just because we are, that doesn’t make you gay.”

 

“Okay,” Dylan nodded. “I think I get it now.” He moved his hand from his lip to the bruise under his eye, pressing it gently. “I’m sorry that I got into a fight at school.”

 

“Every kid needs at least one,” Dean said, smiling over at Sam. 

 

“But Dylan, you didn’t even know what those words meant,” Sam pointed out. “Why’d you get mad at him for it?”

 

“Because they sounded mean,” Dylan explained. 

 

Sam leaned down and kissed Dylan’s cheek, right under his bruise. “I don’t think that’s a very good reason, Dylan.”

 

Dylan looked over at Sam. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

 

Dean kissed the top of Dylan’s head, smiling. “Okay, good.”

 

* * * *

 

Dean groaned and murmured in his sleep, rolling over onto his side, arm pressed into the mattress. He sighed and opened his eyes, blinking a couple times before focusing on Dylan in front of him, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Dylan, what’s going on?”

 

Dylan sniffled and tried to climb onto the mattress, reaching out for Dean.

 

Dean yawned and sat up, helping Dylan climb up onto his lap, holding him tightly. “You okay, Dylan?”

 

Dylan shook his head and wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck. “You and Mommy were hurt really bad,” he sobbed.

 

“Yeah, we were,” Dean agreed softly. “But it’s no reason to cry.”

 

“What if you died?” Dylan asked, pulling back a bit. “They broke your skull, Daddy!”

 

“Shh,” Dean said, rubbing Dylan’s back. He glanced back at Sam, who was still asleep, and sighed, before standing up. “Come on, let’s go lay down in your bed Dyl, I want Mommy to stay asleep.”

 

Dylan nodded, whimpering in Dean’s arms. “Okay.”

 

Dean opened the door a bit more and walked out, pulling the door shut behind him. “It’s okay, Dylan,” he said quietly, shifting Dylan in his arms. “We’re okay now, right? We’ve always been okay.” He walked through the living room and down the hallway to Dylan’s bedroom, smiling at Dylan. He kissed his cheek and walked into Dylan’s bedroom, closing the door behind them. He walked over to the bed and sat down, letting Dylan crawl off of him. “Mommy and me have always been okay, Dylan. We didn’t tell you this so that you’d have nightmares, Pickle.” Dylan crawled back under his sheets and Dean crawled under with him, wrapping an arm around Dylan. “I didn’t wanna scare you.”

 

“But you could’ve died!” Dylan exclaimed, pushing himself up, lying down on Dean’s chest.

 

“But we didn’t, Dylan,” Dean said gently, rubbing Dylan’s back comfortingly. “You know, your mom kind of saved me that night.”

 

Dylan sniffled. “Really?” he asked, snuggling into Dean’s chest.

 

“Yeah,” Dean nodded. “Your mom was in the car, but when the guy…hit my head into the ground, he got out and pulled the guy off of me.”

 

“But Daddy, you could’ve died,” Dylan whined again. 

 

“But I didn’t,” Dean whispered, kissing the top of Dylan’s head. “I’m right here, right now. I didn’t die, Dylan.”

 

Dylan sniffled and wiped his eyes, still sobbing quietly. “If-- if you had died--”

 

Dean sighed and tried not to roll his eyes, realizing that this was going to take awhile for Dylan to understand.

 

“Would Mommy still have had me?” Dylan finished.

 

Dean frowned, staring up at the ceiling, still rubbing Dylan’s back. He hadn’t really thought of that since it happened. “Yeah,” he said eventually, “he would’ve.”

 

Dylan began to cry even harder and he wrapped an arm around Dean’s neck as he rolled off of Dean’s chest, curling into his side. “Daddy.”

 

“Dylan, I know that this--” Dean frowned when he heard a strange noise and he looked around, shaking his head. “Dylan, you see what you’re doing?”

 

Dylan lifted his head, nodding as he looked around the room. “Yeah, Daddy.”

 

“Well you gotta stop it,” Dean commanded gently. “You have to calm down now.”

 

Dylan nodded and took a deep breath, swallowing hard. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply and finally, the closet door stopped shaking.

 

Dean smiled down at Dylan thankfully. “Dylan, it’s probably really hard to think about what happened,” he began softly, before yawning loudly, “but-- but Dylan, I am fine. I am. It’s been more than seven years since it happened and we are both okay.”

 

“But I…I could’ve never met you, Daddy,” Dylan said quietly, tears finally stopping.

 

Dean sighed and gave Dylan another kiss. “But you did. I was there the day you were born, because I am fine. And I’ve been there everyday since. I’m okay. Do you believe me?”

 

Dylan nodded and looked up at Dean, pushing himself up to kiss Dean’s cheek. “I just love you, Daddy.”

 

“I just love you too, kiddo,” Dean said quietly, reaching down to pull the sheets up a little further. “And I wouldn’t’ve told you about what happened if I thought you would react like this. We’re fine. I promise. My head…it doesn’t bother me and my ankle just hurts a little sometimes.” He kissed Dylan again. “But it would be sad, if I had never gotten to know you.”

 

“Yeah?” Dylan asked quietly, obviously tired.

 

“Yeah,” Dean nodded slowly. “You’re my son, you know.” He snuggled into the small bed and let his eyes drift closed, arm wrapped around Dylan.

 

* * * *

 

Sam knocked on the bedroom door, pushing it open. He smiled at the sight before him and walked into the bedroom quietly, leaning down to kiss Dean’s cheek.

 

Dean groaned and shifted on the bed, eyes eventually opening. “Hi,” he said quietly, smiling up at Sam.

 

Sam leaned down and gave Dean a kiss, keeping it closed-mouth, with the morning breath and all. “You gotta get up, sugar.”

 

Dean groaned and shook his head. “Don’ wanna.”

 

“Gotta,” Sam teased.

 

Dean stretched as much as he could, feet going off the end of the bed, arms banging into the wall. “Make me breakfast?” he asked, smiling again.

 

Sam nodded. “Sure thing. Is he gonna be up?” he asked, reaching down to fix Dylan’s top.

 

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know.” He kissed Dylan’s head, taking a deep breath. “What a kid, huh?”

 

Sam nodded and straightened up. “I’ll go get started on your bacon and French toast.”

 

“Score!” Dean cheered quietly, pumping his fists.

 

Sam laughed and walked back out of the bedroom, pulling the door closed behind him.

 

Dean pushed himself up slightly, looking down at Dylan, smiling at him. He leaned down, mouth by Dylan’s ear. “You awake, buddy?” he asked almost silently. If Dylan was awake he’d hear him; if he wasn’t, then Dean would be the only one who heard his question. He waited for a moment before sitting up, sliding his legs off the bed. He stood up and turned around, fixing Dylan’s sheets, trying to make him comfortable. He walked to the door, slipping out of the room quietly, feet making soft sounds on the carpet beneath them. He smiled at Sam in the kitchen and walked through the living and dining rooms, going to the refrigerator.

 

“So what happened?” Sam asked, drinking from a large glass of orange juice.

 

“He was crying last night,” Dean answered, walking over to Sam, taking his glass from him. He sighed as the cool liquid went down his throat, nodding. “Scared about how we could’ve died.”

 

“So I guess this isn’t the best time to tell him what we really hunt, huh?” Sam smiled, taking his glass back.

 

“Guess not,” Dean nodded, jerking back when a piece of bacon fat flew out of the pan. “Save that, and everything else, for later. Kid’s only six, you know.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes and took a drink. “Yeah, Dean, ‘cause I must’ve missed that.”

 

Dean smiled and tilted his head up, kissing Sam’s neck. “Love ya, ya big lug.”

 

Sam smiled, shaking his head. “And I thank you for that.”

 

* * * *

 

“I thought I could walk in alone,” Dylan said, looking up at Dean.

 

Dean squeezed his hand around Dylan’s and nodded. “You can. I just gotta talk to Mr Daylin for a second.”

 

Dylan nodded and smiled over at Mr Daylin, waving his hand. “Hi, Mr Daylin!”

 

Mr Daylin stood up at his desk and waved back at Dylan, a huge grin on his face. “Nice shiner, kid!”

 

Dylan laughed and nodded, pressing to his bruise gently. “My daddy wants to talk to you!” he called back, letting go of Dean’s hand, walking over to where Matthew was standing and waiting.

 

Mr Daylin stepped out from behind his desk and walked over to Dean, smiling at him. “So how is he?” he asked, glancing over at Dylan.

 

“Took a bit for the lip to stop bleeding,” Dean answered, “but other than that…” He took a deep breath and sighed, reaching out for Mr Daylin’s hand.

 

Mr Daylin looked down in surprise, but shook Dean’s hand merrily anyway.

 

“I just want to thank you,” Dean said.

 

Mr Daylin looked back up at Dean, confused. “For what?”

 

Dean’s hand dropped back down to his side and he shrugged. “For-- for being such a great teacher, and for pulling Dakota off of Dylan, for not judging me and Sam and for just…just being really nice to him.” He dropped his eyes, swallowing hard.

 

“Mr Winchester,” Mr Daylin began, smiling quickly when Dean looked back up at him, “it’s not my place to judge. Those in glass houses…or something, and such.”

 

“It’s just, I think it made it a lot easier to take him to school,” Dean explained, “knowing that you weren’t going to treat him differently because of us.”

 

Mr Daylin smiled and nodded understandingly. “Well, I like to think I’m nice to all of my students, but Dylan really is something else. He’s smart.”

 

Dean nodded proudly. “Yeah.”

 

Mr Daylin nodded once. “Anyway, I guess I should thank you too. Some of these kids are hellions, on a good day. Parents who don’t read to them and stuff like that. Thanks for letting me teach such a nice kid.”

 

Dean grinned and reached out, shaking Mr Daylin’s hand again. “It was no problem. Really, it’s a pleasure.”


	15. Chapter 15

Title: Look What Love Has Done - Volume 3 - Chapter 15

Pairing: Sam/Dean

Disclaimer: Not mine

Rating: R this chapter

Summary: They're taking the weekend off for Dean's birthday to visit John in Portland.

Author's Note: Forget volume one, forget volume two; this is volume three 

 

seven years, nine months and seven days old

 

Sam looked up at Dean, smiling when the plate was set in front of him. “Thank you.”

 

Dean kissed Sam’s forehead and straightened up, nodding. “Dylan, eat your cereal,” he said, reaching over to pick up Dylan’s spoon, handing it to him.

 

“But it’s yucky,” Dylan whined, dropping his spoon into his bowl. “There’s no sugar in it.”

 

Dean sighed and rolled his eyes, sitting down at the table. “Not everything you eat needs sugar in it, Dylan. Eat now, please.”

 

“Why did I even have to get up?” Dylan muttered, picking his spoon back up. “I don’t even have any school today.”

 

“Because we wanted you up and packed,” Sam answered, “because we’re leaving soon.”

 

Dylan rolled his eyes, slouching down in his chair. “We went to Uncle Bobby’s for Christmas, so why do we have to go for Dad’s birthday?”

 

Dean raised an eyebrow and looked over to Sam, picking up a piece of bacon. “Well, glad to know I’m less important than Christmas. Where’s your mom on that list?”

 

“Dylan, I already explained to you, we’re not going to Bobby’s,” Sam reminded him. “Grampie’s in Portland, and that’s a lot closer than Bobby’s.”

 

Dylan looked up at Dean, glaring at him as he shoved the spoon in his mouth. “I don’t wanna drive to Portland either. It’ll take forever to get there. If we don’t make it back in time for me to go to school on Monday, I’m going to tell Mr Wright why.”

 

“Fine, go ahead,” Dean shrugged. “It’s not like we’re going to leave you here, so get used to it.”

 

Dylan groaned and dropped his spoon again, hitting his fist against the table. “But I don’t want to go!”

 

Dean sighed and turned slowly to face Dylan. “I. Don’t. Care. You are going, Dylan. Now eat your breakfast.”

 

“You’re mean,” Dylan muttered, taking another bite of cereal.

 

“I’m getting old and cranky,” Dean said, smiling over at Sam.

 

Sam swallowed a drink of his juice and smiled politely, slinking down in his chair a little. “Dylan, I’d like it if you ate your breakfast.”

 

“But Mommy,” Dylan whined, his spoon in his fist, “I don’t like it. And I don’t want to go to Portland.”

 

“Are we sure he’s not a girl?” Dean murmured, picking up his glass. “One who just so happens to be PMS-ing?”

 

“Dean, stop it,” Sam said quietly, reaching for a piece of bacon. “Dylan, I know that you don’t like it, but it’s all that we have left.”

 

Dylan sighed and stared at the bowl in front of him. “I don’t want it,” he said quietly, climbing off of his chair.

 

“Where are you going?” Dean asked, straightening up.

 

“To pack,” Dylan said quietly, walking through the living room.

 

Dean looked over at the still full cereal bowl and shook his head. “Kid sure is going to be hungry till we stop for supper in Sacramento.”

 

“I’ll make him something,” Sam said, taking another drink. “And I prefer it if you two didn’t fight the whole time.”

 

“He’s only seven, I can take him,” Dean said, reaching over to grab Dylan’s bowl. He stood up and set it down on the counter, walking back to the table. “Sammy, I don’t know what’s going on with him. He’s just…obscenely cranky.”

 

Sam grabbed another piece of bacon, biting into it. “I just don’t want you to egg him on. It’s your birthday tomorrow, I’d like to have it be nice.”

 

“I don’t even want to celebrate, Sam,” Dean reminded him.

 

Sam leaned in, cupping the back of Dean’s neck, pulling him into a kiss. “I happen to think that--” he kissed him again, “thirty-six is extremely sexy.”

 

Dean snorted and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you would. You weirdo.” He reached over and grabbed a piece of bacon, smirking as he bit into it. “Sammy, don’t you think I’m old?”

 

“You’re still only four years older than me,” Sam pointed out.

 

Dean sighed and smiled at Sam, fluttering his eyelashes. “Ah, I guess that makes you old too then.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes and picked up his glass, standing up. “I’m not old. Why can’t you just be young?”

 

“Because I turn thirty-six tomorrow!” Dean exclaimed. “I’ve wrinkles in places I didn’t even know I had, Sam!”

 

Sam rolled his eyes. “They’re just wrinkles, Dean. If you’re so worried about them, go get Botox or something.” Dean thought for a moment, smiling faintly and Sam reached over, lightly smacking Dean’s head. “You are not going to get Botox, Dean. Grow a beard or something. It works for Dad.”

 

“Dad is sixty!” Dean cried. “Don’t compare me to him! He’s an old man! I’m mid-thirties!”

 

“So you’re not old,” Sam said slowly. “Get it now?”

 

Dean sighed and grabbed a couple pieces of bacon. “Fine,” he muttered, grabbing his glass.

 

* * * *

 

“Are we there yet?” Dylan whined, kicking his feet, picking at his seatbelt.

 

“No, Dylan,” Sam said, glancing at a sign as they drove by, “we’re not going to get there until tomorrow.”

 

“Are we going to stop tonight?” Dylan asked, wiggling around.

 

“Yeah we are, Dylan,” Sam replied. “In a place called Medford.”

 

“Are we ever going to stop for supper?” Dylan asked, head dropping to one side. “I’m sorry I didn’t eat my breakfast.”

 

“Dylan, we’re not gonna let you starve kiddo,” Sam assured him. “You got your books, right? Why don’t you read something? Or maybe take a nap?”

 

Dylan sighed and shifted again. “It’s too long of a drive,” he whined. “I’m gonna die back here, Mommy.”

 

Dean turned in his seat and looked back at Dylan. “Is there anything that would make this trip go faster?”

 

“If we were driving home,” Dylan replied hopefully.

 

Dean smiled. “You want me to sit in the back with you? Leave Mommy to drive, we can play a game or something.”

 

Dylan sighed again. “I’ll just watch out the window.”

 

Dean sighed and looked forward in his seat again, glancing over at Sam. “He’s just going to look out the window now.”

 

Sam nodded once. “I heard.”

 

Dean reached down and turned the radio on, straightening up to crack his back. He slouched back down and closed his eyes. “Can’t we just go to Vegas?”

 

“Is that closer than Portland?” Dylan asked, still watching out the window.

 

“Much closer,” Dean answered.

 

“Can’t we just go to Vegas?” Dylan echoed.

 

“Kids don’t have any fun in Vegas, Dylan,” Dean said, shifting in his seat, “only grown-ups. Unless…would getting you a hooker make you quiet down?”

 

Sam’s jaw dropped and he looked over at Dean, smacking his knee.

 

“What’s a hooker?” Dylan asked, leaning forward in his seat.

 

“Uh…” Sam looked into the backseat. “It’s nothing, Dylan. It’s not for kids, it’s not for you, and if ever get one, I won’t be happy.”

 

“You won’t be happy?” Dean repeated. “Why? How does it affect you, who he sleeps with?”

 

“Because he’s seven?” Sam pointed out. “Jesus, Dean. Just-- just don’t talk about stuff like that around him. Seriously.”

 

“Seriously?” Dean mocked.

 

Sam rolled his eyes and looked out of the car, quickly reading a sign. “Dylan, are you hungry?”

 

Dylan nodded. “Where’s my food?”

 

“In your backpack,” Sam answered. “Can you get it?”

 

Dylan nodded and reached over, grabbing his backpack. He unzipped it and pulled a couple of books out before finally finding his sandwich. “What kind is it?” he asked, lifting his head.

 

“If he complains…” Dean muttered, shaking his head. “Dylan, it’s ham and cheese. I know you like it, so don’t even try it.”

 

“Okay,” Dylan said, taking a bite of his sandwich. “It’s good.” He chewed it slowly, nodding his head, looking around the car. “How old is Daddy going to be tomorrow, Mommy?”

 

“Well he’s sitting right there, Dylan,” Sam pointed out, “can’t you ask him yourself?”

 

Dylan took another bite of his sandwich and leaned forward, poking Dean in the arm.

 

“Thirty-six,” Dean said, looking back at Dylan.

 

Dylan nodded and sat back, swallowing. “How many years older than me is that?”

 

“I was twenty-eight when you were born, Dylan,” Dean continued.

 

Dylan sighed and took another bite before setting his sandwich down on his backpack. He looked around sadly, lifting his hand to press it against the window. “Is there snow in Portland?”

 

“Not much, Dylan,” Sam answered. “Sorry. But maybe…well, you got to play in the snow at Bobby’s already, right?”

 

Dylan nodded. “Mommy, can we move?”

 

Sam frowned and glanced in the rear view mirror, before looking over at Dean. “What do you mean move?”

 

Dean rolled his eyes and smiled to himself, shaking his head.

 

“I don’t think I like where we live,” Dylan explained. 

 

“So what, you wanna move to a different…street?” Sam asked. “City? County? What?”

 

Dylan thought for a moment, shaking his head. “State.”

 

Dean snorted, trying not to laugh. “You want to move to a different state? Dylan, you’ve only ever lived in California, you have no idea what living in a different state would be like.”

 

“Well, would we have a house?” Dylan asked.

 

Dean laughed again. “I assume so.”

 

“Would I go to school?” Dylan asked.

 

Sam looked into the backseat, wondering if Dylan was serious. “Uh yeah, Dylan. You’d go to school no matter where you lived.”

 

“Then it’d be the same as living in California,” Dylan continued. “I like the snow. And I liked playing in the leaves at Bobby’s. It’s boring where we live.”

 

“It’s one season, right Dylan?” Dean asked, looking back at him.

 

Dylan nodded. “Right.”

 

Sam sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Well Dylan, your dad owns a store here, we couldn’t just leave it. Michael and Paula and Cillian and Albany are here. Todd and Danny. You wouldn’t want to leave all of them, would you?”

 

Dylan shrugged, and picked up his sandwich again. “I just don’t like it here,” he said quietly, taking a bite.

 

Dean reached back and patted Dylan’s knee, smiling at him. “I don’t really like it either,” he said quietly. “And sometimes, Mommy doesn’t either. But it’s like…it’s our home, you know? And that means something.”

 

Dylan nodded understandingly, smiling at Dean. “Okay, Daddy.”

 

* * * *

 

Dylan climbed up onto his bed, picking at the sheets. He grabbed at his pillow and pulled it towards him, wrapping his arms around. “How far away from Grampie are we now?”

 

“About four and a half hours,” Sam replied, handing Dean his cell phone.

 

Dean smiled over at Dylan as he dialed John’s number, sitting down on the edge of his and Sam’s bed. “Hi, Dad,” he said, smiling again.

 

Sam sat down beside Dylan, wrapping an arm around him. “You tired yet, kiddo?”

 

Dylan nodded weakly and leaned against Sam, watching Dean.

 

“No, we’re in…” Dean trailed off, looking over to Sam.

 

“Medford,” Sam supplied, kissing the top of Dylan’s head.

 

“Medford,” Dean repeated to his father. “No yeah, it’s like…five hours away or something, I guess. We’ll probably be leaving after breakfast.” He looked over at Sam again. “Uh yeah, stay the night, eat breakfast with you then we hit the road. Dylan’s threatening to tell his teacher why if he misses school.” He laughed softly before his smile disappeared. “What is it, do you know?” He stood up and walked over to the window, looking out onto the parking lot. “I don’t know, I could probably…” he trailed off and looked back at Sam, who was watching him. “Wait till we get there. I’ll go.”

 

“Where’s he going?” Dylan asked, lifting his head.

 

Sam frowned, shaking his head. “I’m not too sure, Dylan. How’s about you go in and brush your teeth, and I’ll ask him?”

 

Dylan nodded slowly and climbed off the bed, grabbing his backpack as he walked by, dragging it into the washroom.

 

“Okay, see ya tomorrow,” Dean said, turning off his phone. “Well, Sammy…”

 

“You’re going on a hunt,” Sam said flatly.

 

Dean sighed and tried to nod. “Um, sort of. Me and Dad. He thinks it’s a Wendigo, but who the hell knows, right?”

 

“How long will it take?” Sam asked, standing up off the bed. “Dylan has to be back you know, he has school.”

 

“Well he’s ninety-eight on what it is, knows the woods, and has a guess as to where it’s living,” Dean explained. “If me and Dad don’t get back by…with enough time to get Dylan back to school, then you guys go ahead. Dad’ll drive me home.”

 

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes. “It’s your birthday, Dean.”

 

Dean shrugged. “Some guys like to golf on their birthdays, I like to go hunting. Is that so wrong?”

 

Sam turned around and walked towards the bathroom, smiling down at Dylan. “Daddy’s going on a hunt with Grampie once we get to Portland.”

 

Dylan spit into the sink, looking up at Sam. “Does that mean that I don’t have to go?”

 

“You’re still going,” Dean called, pulling off his shirt.

 

Dylan rolled his eyes and stuck his toothbrush back in his mouth. He thought for a moment, before pulling the toothbrush back out of his mouth. He spit into the sink and looked up at Sam. “Can I go hunting with them?”

 

“No!” Sam exclaimed. “Dylan, you’re too young. I wasn’t hunting at your age. You’re just…too young, okay?”

 

Dylan sighed. “How old were you your first hunt then?” he asked, spitting into the sink again. He rinsed his toothbrush off and stuck in back in his backpack, dragging it back out into the main room.

 

Sam reached out, ruffling Dylan’s hair, following him out. “Uh…Dean?”

 

“Fourteen,” Dean said flatly, looking over at them quickly. 

 

“Yeah so…” Sam sat down on the bed, reaching out for Dylan. “We’ll just discuss it when you’re older, okay? You’re not going tomorrow, that’s all I know.”

 

Dylan grabbed his pyjamas out of his backpack and reached down, pulling off his socks before taking off his pants. “What time do I have to get up?” He asked, pulling up pyjamas.

 

Sam shrugged, watching Dylan carefully. “Don’t know yet. Don’t worry about it though.”

 

Dylan pulled off his shirt and grabbed his pyjama top, pulling it over his head, messing up his hair. He climbed up onto the bed, smiling at Sam. “Night, Mommy.”

 

Sam smiled and stood up, walking to the head of the bed to lean down, giving Dylan a kiss. “Goodnight, Dylan.”

 

Dean walked over and leaned down, also giving Dylan a kiss. “Good dreams, Pickle. We’ll try and keep it down for ya.” He leaned over and turned on the lamp, walking past Sam to turn off the main lights. He sat down on his bed and sighed, looking up at Sam. “Tired yet?” he asked quietly, shifting when Sam sat down beside him.

 

Sam shook his head, straightening up, cracking his back. “Maybe a little,” he admitted, meeting Dean’s eyes.

 

Dean leaned in and gave Sam a quick kiss, leaning into him. He pulled back and looked out the window for a moment as his hand came up, scratching at the back of his neck. “So uh…how do you kill a Wendigo again?” He looked back at Sam sheepishly.

 

Sam sighed and flopped back onto the bed, closing his eyes.

 

* * * *

 

Dylan laid his head against Sam’s chest, one hand gripping Sam’s jacket. “Mommy, it’s early,” he whined, eyelids fluttering.

 

Sam kissed Dylan’s forehead, nodding. “I know, Dyl, but Grampie called. He wants Daddy there sooner.” He swayed back and forth a bit, shifting Dylan in his arms. “You’ll sleep in the car, okay?”

 

Dylan nodded tiredly, his grip loosening on Sam’s jacket. “Mama…in the back wi’ me?” he mumbled.

 

“Sure thing, baby,” Sam assured him, kissing Dylan again. “I’ll sleep with ya.”

 

Dean walked out of the lobby and waved over at them. “You two ready to go?”

 

“Yeah,” Dylan said quietly, head lolling back.

 

Sam moved his hand to support Dylan’s neck and tried to smile at Dean, opening the backseat. “Into the booster seat, Dyl,” he said, leaning into the car.

 

Dylan nodded and let Sam put him in his booster seat, looking up at Sam.

 

“You’re driving, Dean,” Sam said, walking around to the other side of the car.

 

Dean nodded and climbed in, looking back at Dylan as Sam climbed into the back. “I figured as much.”

 

Sam slouched down as far as he could in the seat, closing his eyes. He reached over and grasped lightly onto Dylan’s hand, squeezing it gently. “Get some sleep Dylan, we’ll be there before you know it.” He took a deep breath and yawned, the same sound coming from Dylan only a moment later.

 

* * * *

 

John pulled Dean into a hug as soon as he was out of the car, smiling. “How are ya?” he asked, looking through the windows of the car. “They asleep?”

 

Dean nodded, smiling as he pulled back. “The babies.”

 

“So how are ya?” John asked again, clapping Dean’s shoulder.

 

“Good,” Dean nodded once, “great. Good. How are you?”

 

John shrugged. “Feeling a lot older. Happy birthday, kiddo.”

 

Dean grinned. “Thirty-six. Wow, right?”

 

John nodded and stepped by him, opening the back door. He leaned in, kissing Dylan’s forehead. “Hey DJ, you wanna wake up?”

 

Dylan stirred and his eyes moved, but they didn’t open just yet.

 

John unbuckled Dylan and reached in, worming his hands under Dylan, lifting him carefully out of the car. “How tall is he?” he asked, looking over at Dean. 

 

Dean thought for a moment. “Four three, four four. Around there.” 

 

“Kind of tall, isn’t he?” John asked, shifting Dylan in his arms.

 

“I think so,” Dean agreed. “Guess he’ll be like Sam in that respect.”

 

John smiled and leaned down, tightening his hold on Dylan, reaching in the car to shake Sam lightly. “Sammy, wanna wake up?”

 

Sam sighed and stirred, head clunking against the window. “What?” he asked, eyes shooting open. He smiled once he focused on John. “Hi, Dad.”

 

John smiled back, pulling out of the car. “You guys wanna go to lunch?” he asked, holding Dylan’s head to his chest.

 

Dean nodded. “Yeah, sure. I can drive the truck, you can keep Dyl on your lap.” He grinned and held his hand out for the keys.

 

John sighed and dug into his pocket, grabbing his keys. He handed them off to Dean and turned around, waiting for Sam to climb out of the car. “How was the drive?” he asked Sam, walking with him over to the truck.

 

Sam shrugged and smiled down at Dylan, reaching out to brush his hair off his forehead. “Long.”

 

John smiled sympathetically, shifting Dylan again. “Dylan okay?”

 

Sam nodded slowly, climbing up into the truck. “Getting older.”

 

John awkwardly climbed into the truck, still holding Dylan in his arms. “Turning eight this year.” He shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe it.” He kissed Dylan’s forehead, shifting in the seat.

 

“Where to?” Dean asked, pulling out of the parking lot.

 

Sam shrugged and yawned. “Somewhere with coff--” he met Dean’s eyes and trailed off, “ee. Uh…”

 

Dean cleared his throat and shook his head, reaching up to scratch at his head. “Yeah, I pretty much figured.”

 

Sam dropped his eyes and looked down at his lap, picking at his jeans. “Sorry.”

 

Dean reached over, patting Sam’s knee. “How long you been drinking?”

 

Sam lifted his head, looking out the windshield. “Two years.”

 

Dean nodded slowly, turning the wheel. “How much?”

 

Sam shook his head. “Not much. Couple times a week.”

 

Dean pulled to a stop at a red light, leaning over to give Sam a quick kiss. “It’s okay,” he assured him, kissing Sam’s temple. He began driving again, leaning forward in his seat to look at Dylan. 

 

Sam looked over at John, trying to smile. “Dylan didn’t really wanna come this weekend.”

 

John smiled and laughed softly. “All the driving, I wouldn’t wanna come either.”

 

Dylan’s head fall back and his eyes jerked open, looking up at Sam. He groaned softly and tried to stretch. “Hi, Mom.”

 

Sam leaned down and kissed Dylan’s forehead. “Hi.”

 

Dylan straightened up and wrapped his arms around John’s neck, snuggling into him. “Hi, Grampie.”

 

“How you feeling kiddo?” John asked quietly, rubbing Dylan’s back. 

 

Dylan nodded against John’s chest, rubbing his eyes. “Are we in Oregon now?”

 

John smiled and nodded. “Yeah, Portland.” He kissed Dylan’s forehead. “I made sure we got a motel with a pool, if you still like swimming.”

 

Dylan nodded eagerly. “Where are we going?”

 

“For lunch,” John smiled, letting Dylan crawl on his lap a little. “You hungry?”

 

Dylan looked down and rubbed his stomach a little. “What’s a Wendigo?”

 

John frowned and looked over at Sam, before leaning forward a bit to look at Dean. “Well it’s…it’s a scary thing, in the woods. Daddy and I are gonna go hunt it tonight.”

 

“Can I go?” Dylan asked eagerly.

 

“Dylan, we already told you no,” Sam said, looking at him. “Not until you’re older.”

 

John frowned again and met Sam’s eyes. “You’re letting him hunt?” he asked in surprise.

 

“Well, uh…” Sam shifted in his seat and looked over at Dean, who was glancing back at him. “I…we…don’t know. Maybe. We’ve already started teaching him Latin.” He cleared his throat and shifted again. “It’s kind of the family business, Dad.”

 

John looked at Dylan, smiling at him. “You know Latin?”

 

Dylan shrugged before nodding quickly. “A little bit. You wanna hear?”

 

“Well what words do you know?” John asked.

 

Dylan thought for a moment. “Abbas abbatis. Mater matris. Filius.”

 

John smiled and held Dylan a little tighter. “That’s great, Dylan. That’s really good.”

 

Dylan smiled back and squeezed his arms around John’s neck, kissing John’s cheek. “Thank you.”

 

Dean pulled into the Subway parking lot and turned of the ignition, sighing, looking over at his family. “Okay, are we going in?”

 

Sam nodded and waited for Dean to open the door, climbing out after him. 

 

John opened the door and let Dylan climb out of the truck, following behind him. He grasped onto Dylan’s hand, pushing the door closed, following Sam and Dean into the restaurant. “What do you want to eat, Dylan?” he asked gently, leading Dylan over to a booth. 

 

“Mommy and Daddy know what I don’t like,” Dylan said, sliding in, snuggling up against John. “I missed you, Grampie.”

 

John smiled and kissed the top of Dylan’s head. “I’ve missed you too, Dylan. I wish I could see you more often.”

 

Dylan nodded. “Why don’t you move to California with us?” he asked, looking up at John. “Maybe you could work with Daddy.”

 

John smiled and looked over at Dean and Sam, talking in the line. “I used to live with you guys, Dylan, but I just…I like to hunt. So I’d be gone all of the time anyway. Right?”

 

Dylan nodded. “I’m glad you invited us today.”

 

John nodded. “Did you tell your dad happy birthday yet?” he asked.

 

Dylan shook his head. “Should I?”

 

John nodded and slid out of the booth, letting Dylan climb out. “Go now.”

 

Dylan nodded and walked over to Dean, grasping onto his hand, yanking down. 

 

“Yeah, Dylan?” Dean asked, stepping away from the counter. He crouched down, looking at Dylan. “What’s going on?”

 

Dylan threw his arms around Dean’s neck, burying his face in Dean’s chest.

 

Dean frowned and looked over at John, who was just smiling.

 

“Happy birthday, Daddy,” Dylan said quietly, pulling back. “Is it good?”

 

Dean grinned and nodded. “Lunch with my whole family, it’s great.” He kissed Dylan’s forehead, standing up. He ruffled Dylan’s hair, still grinning. “Go back and sit with Grampie, go catch up. Talk to him a bit more in Latin.”

 

Dylan nodded and walked back over, climbing over John’s lap to get into his spot. “I know mens mentis and metuo and orbis terrarum.”

 

“Who teaches you that?” John asked.

 

“Mommy, mainly,” Dylan replied, “but Daddy actually reads to me in it. My bedtime stories are from those old books now.”

 

John laughed softly. “Wow. Those are…does he explain to you, what they really are?”

 

Dylan shook his head. “Just that he learned them when he was really young. That you taught them to him.”

 

John nodded slowly, looking over at Sam and Dean. “Does your mom know that that’s what Daddy’s reading to you?”

 

Dylan shrugged, shaking his head. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. Is it bad?”

 

“No, not bad,” John assured him. “Just a little weird. I bet nobody else your age is reading those stories.” He smiled. “Dylan, you know…I’m proud of you. Your parents tell me how smart you’re getting and I’m just…I’m as proud of you as I was of Sam. I’m really happy.”

 

Dylan beamed proudly, looking up when Sam walked over with their drinks. He pushed himself up on his seat, mouth by John’s ear. “Thanks, Grampie,” he whispered, kissing John’s cheek again.

 

* * * *

 

Dean leaned down and let Dylan place a wet kiss on his cheek.

 

Dylan tried to push himself out of the pool, trying to wrap his soaking arms around Dean’s neck. “When will you be back?”

 

Dean straightened up and pulled Dylan out of the pool, wrapping his arms around him. “At the latest, tomorrow afternoon. But I don’t think we’ll be that long.”

 

“If you’re that long, I won’t be able to go to school Monday,” Dylan pointed out.

 

“I think if I’m that long you and your mom are gonna start the drive back alone,” Dean explained, “and Grampie will drive me home. But I don’t think it’s going to take that long.”

 

Dylan nodded and wiggled out of Dean’s arms, sitting down on the cement before sliding back into the water.

 

“You ready to go?” John asked, walking up to Dean.

 

Dean smiled over at Sam, who was watching him from the other side of the pool. He managed to pull his eyes away from Sam’s chest to nod jerkily at his father. “Uh, yeah. Bye, Dylan!”

 

Dylan waved. “Bye Grampie!”

 

“See ya Dyl!” John said, waving back.

 

Sam raised an eyebrow and smirked over at Dean, slipping under the water to swim over to him. “Gonna leave without a goodbye?” he asked breathlessly, pushing himself up out of the pool a bit.

 

Dean crouched down and cupped Sam’s cheek, slipping his tongue into Sam’s mouth. “Love you,” he said softly, pulling back. 

 

Sam grinned and kissed him again. “Love you too.”

 

“Bye, Sam,” John said, shifting on his feet.

 

Sam pushed himself back from the edge of the pool, swimming backwards. “Bye Dad.”

 

John patted Dean’s shoulder, leading him over to the door out of the pool. He pulled it open and walked outside, going over to the truck. “I’ve got flare guns, matches, lighters and a blowtorch. You think that’ll be enough?”

 

Dean grinned and nodded slowly. “Oh yeah. I think that should do it.”

 

Dylan swam over to Sam, treading water in front of him. “What are they hunting again?”

 

“A Wendigo,” Sam said, wrapping an arm around Dylan’s waist.

 

“What is it?” Dylan asked, looking up at Sam.

 

“Uh, well…” Sam thought for a moment, trying to figure out an easy way to explain it. “It’s a man beast,” he began, nodding once. “It used to be a person, a person who had to…eat another person at a time to stay alive.”

 

Dylan screwed up his face, sticking his tongue out. “That sounds gross.”

 

Sam smiled. “Oh yeah, it is. But Daddy and I have killed one before, and so has Grampie. I think that they’ll both be fine.” He let go of Dylan’s waist and leaned back, wetting his hair. “So come on, you gonna keep swimming or do you wanna go back to the room? You tired of it yet?”

 

Dylan shook his head, laughing as he swam away from Sam.

 

* * * *

 

Dean checked the flare gun, nodding to himself. “So how many people?” he asked, looking up at John.

 

John quickly checked the blowtorch, looking over at Dean. “Five. Two campers in a cabin, couple miles north. Park ranger. Three teenagers.”

 

Dean sighed and shook his head. “You know, if I wasn’t the guy I am, if I heard that people kept going missing in the woods, I might actually stay out of the woods.”

 

John smiled weakly and nodded once. He reached over and grabbed his keys, shoving them in his pocket. “Got your phone?”

 

“How much reception you think we’re gonna get in here?” Dean asked, looking up at the tall trees surrounding them. “We get separated, you’ll hear me screaming. Trust me.”

 

John laughed softly and shoved the blowtorch into a bag, throwing it over his shoulder. “You carry the gun.”

 

Dean nodded and pushed himself off the truck, looking around, trying to commit the location of the truck to memory. As they began walking down a small worn path, Dean began bobbing his head, singing quietly to himself. “He’s a cold-hearted snake, look into his eyes. He’s been telling lies.”

 

“Good birthday, huh?” John asked, trying to get Dean to stop singing.

 

Dean grinned. “Hell yeah. Get to hang out in the woods with my old man and shoot a flare gun.” He glanced behind them and smacked into a snow covered branch, jumping back as snow began melting down his chest. He shivered once and caught back up with John, trying to listen for the Wendigo. “Couple miles north, huh? You sure we’re in the right place then?”

 

“This is the center of it all,” John answered. “Plus, a few meters down that path--” he pointed to the left when they came to a fork, “is where the park ranger was last seen.”

 

Dean stepped ahead of his father and looked to the right, the path continuing up a small hill, light reflecting off the snow. He looked to the left, where his father had pointed, seeing the path go down, light obstructed by the thicker trees. He sighed and nodded. “Yeah, that looks about right,” he murmured. He continued down the left side, pushing branches out of the way, only hearing the snow crunching under their feet. 

 

John glanced behind them and stopped walking, tilting his head to the right. He reached out, grabbing onto Dean’s shoulder. “Dean,” he whispered harshly.

 

Dean stopped walking and closed his eyes, listening intently. He heard a crack and his eyes shot open just in time to see John knocked to the ground by a tall lanky creature. “Dad!” Dean yelled, fumbling for the flare gun. The gun dropped to the ground and he shoved his hand in his pocket, flicking the lighter before throwing it at the Wendigo.

 

The monster let out a ear-piercing shriek and disappeared into the trees quickly.

 

“You okay?” Dean asked, crouching down by his father.

 

John nodded and pushed himself up, running his fingers through his hair. “Don’t close your eyes,” he said sternly, straightening up.

 

Dean nodded apologetically and reached down to pick up the flare gun, looking up in time to see the Wendigo run back through the woods, straight into him.

 

“Dean!” John yelled, reaching out for Dean quickly.

 

Dean screamed out in pain as the Wendigo dug into his shoulder, tearing out a chunk of flesh.

 

John dropped down and grabbed onto the flare gun, looking up to see the Wendigo dragging Dean down the path, his legs kicking wildly.

 

“Dad!” Dean yelled, before groaning loudly in pain.

 

John began running after them, the Wendigo moving too fast to get a clear shot at it.

 

Dean’s eyes fluttered and he began punching with one hand, trying to grab onto something, but it was all going by too quickly. He dug his fingers into the ground, squeezing his eyes shut in pain as he felt one or two of them break. He let out a sob of pain and punched it again, finally getting the Wendigo to release him. He skidded to a stop along the ground, everything below the waist in pain, but it was nowhere near as painful as the wound on his shoulder, blood pouring out, staining the couple of inches of snow on the ground.

 

The Wendigo looked up when John stopped running, gun pointed towards him.

 

“Dean, I’m gonna need you to move!” John yelled, finger on the trigger.

 

Dean ground and rolled onto his stomach, pulling himself out of the way weakly with his good arm.

 

John pulled the trigger before moving backwards, watching the flare explode in the Wendigo, burning it from the inside out. The still burning body fell to the ground, snow almost instantly fizzling the fire out.

 

Dean gasped and rolled himself back over onto his back, hand clutching at his shoulder, staring up at the trees. He jerked his legs, still feeling the heat from the fire.

 

John dropped to his knees beside Dean, pressing his hands into Dean’s wound. “Dean, can you hear me?”

 

Dean nodded jerkily, meeting John’s eyes. “Sam,” he said weakly, body trembling. “Get me back to Sam.”

 

* * * *

 

“Mom?” Dylan asked, climbing onto Sam’s bed.

 

Sam groaned softly and tried to roll over.

 

“Mom?” Dylan asked again, shaking Sam lightly. “Mommy?”

 

Sam’s eyes finally opened and he looked up at Dylan. “Yeah, Dyl? You okay?”

 

Dylan nodded and sat down beside Sam. “Grampie’s truck drove up.”

 

Sam groaned again and he shifted, looking over at the clock, reading two oh-three. “‘Kay, go open the door for them.”

 

Dylan nodded and walked over to the door, waiting a couple of seconds before reaching up to unlock the door, pulling it open.

 

“Sam!” John yelled, holding Dean in his arms.

 

Sam shot up in his bed and Dylan stepped out of the way, watching Dean in John’s arms. “Dad?” Dylan asked quietly, closing the door. 

 

“What the hell happened?” Sam asked, running over to the two of them. 

 

“He got bit,” John explained, helping Dean lie down on the bed. “The thing it-- it fucking bit him.”

 

“Did you kill it?” Sam demanded, trying to help Dean’s jacket off of him.

 

John nodded and glanced over at Dylan, who was still standing by the door. “I’ve got some first-aid stuff in the truck.”

 

Sam nodded and sniffled, leaning over Dean, palm pressing into his wound. “Dean?” he asked quietly, eyes filling with tears. “Can you hear me? Are you awake?” He shook Dean lightly, waiting a response. “Dean come on, please, come on, wake up. Wake up. I need you to wake up.” He wiped at his eyes, smearing blood on his cheek. “Dean, please,” he begged, leaning down a bit more. “Dean, you can’t leave me. Not now, please not now. Please, you can’t do this.” He began to sob, shoulders shaking. “I’m not ready to be alone. I can’t be alone, I can’t raise him alone.”

 

Dylan stepped towards the bed carefully, watching his parents. “Mom?” he asked, not sure what was going on.

 

Sam glanced back at Dylan, shaking his head. “Dylan, don’t. Okay? Just-- just stay away.”

 

“But Mommy,” Dylan began, taking another step towards him.

 

“Dylan!” Sam yelled. “Don’t!”

 

Dylan nodded and stepped back, waiting by the wall.

 

John pushed open the door and hurried over to the bed, dropping some supplies beside Dean. “Get started. I’ve got more in the truck.”

 

Sam nodded and reached over, grabbing the kit.

 

John looked over at Dylan sadly, stepping back outside into the night, pulling the door closed behind him.

 

Sam sniffled and fumbled with the first-aid items, hands trembling. He glanced back at Dylan, before quickly looking back down at Dean, whose eyes were closed and his mouth was open. Sam let out another sob, whole body trembling then. He set the bandages and needles down, reaching down to get Dean’s jacket off the rest of the way. He sighed sadly and let his fingers run over Dean’s wound, skin coming back stained with blood. He leaned down and kissed Dean’s cheek. “Dean, please wake up,” he whispered, pulling back to see if Dean’s eyes had opened. Sam stood up and walked into the bathroom, flicking the lights on before closing the door.

 

Dylan swallowed hard and walked over to the bed, looking at Dean. “Dad?” he asked quietly, reaching up to touch Dean’s wound, pulling his fingers back, eyes wide. He felt tears spring to his eyes and he reached up again. “Daddy, are you alive?” he asked, grasping onto Dean’s hand. His tears spilled over and he climbed onto the bed, resting his head on Dean’s chest, trying to listen for his heartbeat. “Daddy, please wake up. Please wake up and make Mommy stop crying.” He lifted his head and reached out, touching Dean’s face gingerly, expecting him to jerk and wake up. He laid down beside him, curled up against Dean’s side. “Daddy, please,” he pleaded, crying into Dean’s shirt. He began to rock back and forth against him and he could hear the locks clicking in the doors and the lights began flicking on and off. “Daddy, you have to wake up. Daddy!” he yelled, grabbing onto Dean. He began to shake Dean, crying, the room’s small table shaking on its legs. “Daddy!” he screamed. “Wake up!”

 

Sam opened the bathroom door quickly, running out. “Dylan, I said no!” he yelled, running over to the other side of the bed. He lifted Dylan up, who was shaking his head furiously, kicking his legs. “Dylan, I said stay away from him!” He began to walk away from the bed, looking around the room at everything moving.

 

“Daddy!” Dylan yelled, trying to drop out of Sam’s arms. “Daddy, I’m sorry!”

 

Sam stopped where he was, breathing heavily. 

 

“I’m sorry, Daddy!” Dylan yelled, finally getting out of Sam’s grip. He ran back over to the bed, climbing onto it. “I’m sorry I didn’t eat my cereal,” he cried, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I’m sorry I called you mean. And-- and I’m sorry that I didn’t want to come.” He sniffled. “And that I said I liked Christmas better.” He leaned down and kissed Dean. “Daddy, that means you have to wake up. Please. Because I’m sorry.”

 

“He’s not asleep because you did those things,” John said sadly, finally managing to open the door.

 

Dylan shook his head. “It has to be. Daddy said he’d be safe. I heard him, he said he could do it. You said you did it before!” he yelled, looking back at Sam. He lied down beside Dean again, throwing an arm over his chest. “Daddy, you have to wake up,” Dylan said quietly, “because I love you.”

 

Sam began sobbing quietly and glanced over at John, who had tears running down his cheeks.

 

Dean gasped and groaned, eyes opening slowly. He jerked and his hand flew up, clutching at his shoulder.

 

Sam let out a loud sigh of relief and closed his eyes, saying a quick prayer, sniffling.

 

Dean looked around, not trying to sit up. “Dylan?” he asked, looking down at him.

 

Dylan nodded and lifted his head, smiling through his tears. “Are you gonna live?” he asked, pushing himself up.

 

Dean tried to smile, before he groaned in pain, blood still seeping past his fingers. “Yeah, course I am, kiddo.” 

 

Dylan grinned and the lights stopped flicking and the table stopped moving, the locks silent.

 

“But you gotta move,” Dean continued, “give them room to fix me.”

 

Dylan nodded and climbed off the bed, wiping at his eyes, smearing Dean’s blood on his face. He ran over to Sam, who lifted him up into his arms, holding him tightly.

 

John walked over to the bed, sitting down beside Dean, smiling down at him. “Sorry, son.”

 

Dean tried to shrug, looking down at his bloodstained shirt. “Just hurry up, Dad. I’ve gotta leave in a few hours.”

 

Sam frowned and stepped towards the bed. “Why?”

 

Dean smiled at Dylan, who was smiling back. “I gotta get my son home in time for bed.”

 

* * * *

 

Dean looked up when Sam set his food down on the coffee table, smiling thankfully. “Did you call Bob for me?” he asked, reaching out for his orange juice.

 

Sam rolled his eyes and nodded, trying to smile. “And?”

 

“Thank you,” Dean said, puckering his lips.

 

Sam smiled and leaned down, giving Dean a quick kiss. He stood up and handed Dylan his cereal bowl, ruffling his hair. “Eat that, please. I have to get you to school.”

 

Dylan yawned and grabbed his spoon, nodding. “I’m tired though, Mommy.”

 

“You got enough sleep,” Sam assured him, sitting down on the floor beside him, “trust me. You’ll be fine.”

 

Dylan sighed and took a bite of his cereal, making a face. “There’s no--”

 

“Dylan,” Dean interrupted sternly, grabbing a piece of a toast. “Eat your cereal.”

 

Dylan studied Dean carefully for a moment, before grinning. “Okay, Daddy.”

 

Sam raised an eyebrow and looked over at Dean in surprise. “Jeez, you gotta almost die more often.”

 

Dean laughed softly, grinning at Dylan. “Yeah well…he learn to eat his cereal eventually.”


	16. Chapter 16

Title: Look What Love Has Done - Volume 3 - Chapter 16

Pairing: Sam/Dean

Disclaimer: Not mine

Rating: PG-13 this chapter

Summary: Sam and Dean are told just how smart Dylan is; a friend's pregnancy makes Dylan question where he came from.

Author's Note: Forget volume one, forget volume two; this is volume three 

 

nine years, four months and twenty-eight days old

 

Dean looked around the principal’s office, shifting in his seat.

 

“Stop it,” Sam snapped, looking over at Dean. “Seriously, you’re acting all guilty. What’d you do?”

 

“I didn’t do anything,” Dean insisted. “I just…where’s Dylan? Where’s the principal? Where’s his new teacher? That-- that…” he looked over at Sam questioningly. 

 

“Ms Gonzalez,” Sam supplied.

 

Dean snapped his fingers and nodded. “Yeah exactly, her. I mean, Dylan just started fourth grade and we’ve already got a meeting with the principal? What the hell did we do to that kid?”

 

Sam snorted and rolled his eyes. “You mean, other than raise him?”

 

Dean grinned but it disappeared when the door to the office opened and Mr Kane walked in, alongside Dylan, Ms Gonzalez and a man that neither Sam or Dean recognized. 

 

“Hello,” Mr Kane said, moving to sit behind his desk. “How are you two today?”

 

“Good,” Dean answered automatically.

 

Sam smiled and nodded once. “Great, Mr Kane.”

 

Mr Kane smiled at them both before nodding over at Dylan. “Well, of course you know, Dylan, and Ms Gonzalez. This is Mr Hall.”

 

Sam and Dean both nodded at the teachers and Sam reached out for Dylan, getting Dylan to come stand by him. “So what’s going on?” Dean asked, straightening up.

 

“Dylan is misbehaving in class,” Ms Gonzalez replied, shifting on her feet.

 

Sam looked over at Dylan, who didn’t seem to be listening, just staring at the picture frames around the room. Dean sighed and nodded slowly, eyes going around to all the other adults in the room.

 

“He doesn’t pay any attention,” Ms Gonzalez continued, “he’s constantly doodling or writing or just staring off into space.”

 

“He’s been in your class for less than a week,” Sam pointed out. “I mean, are you guys even learning anything yet?”

 

“Actually, it’s a good thing we got it this early,” Mr Kane said.

 

Sam frowned and looked over at Dean in confusion, before studying Dylan for a moment. “Caught…what, exactly? I don’t know what you think, but just ‘cause the kid got into one fight, two years ago--”

 

“He’s smart,” Mr Kane interrupted. 

 

Sam looked over at Dylan, who still wasn’t paying any attention, still staring at something on the wall. Unfortunately, Dean was staring at the same thing. He sighed and rubbed his eyes, shaking his head. “Uh, okay? So what now?”

 

“I’d like him out of my class,” Ms Gonzalez answered.

 

Dean’s jaw dropped and he shot back to attention, raising his hand. “Listen lady, if you think you can just kick my kid out of your class ‘cause he’s making the rest of the kids look stupid, then--”

 

“And we’d like him to be put in mine,” Mr Hall interrupted, smiling at Sam and Dean.

 

“Who are you again?” Dean asked, frowning.

 

Mr Hall cleared his throat and reached out his hand to Sam, then Dean. “Benjamin Hall.”

 

“What do you teach?” Dean asked. “Like…some special freak class or something?”

 

Sam reached over, lightly smacking Dean’s arm.

 

Mr Hall smiled understandingly but shook his head. “Oh, actually, no. Fifth grade. We’d like Dylan to skip the fourth grade and start the fifth. And we’d like him to do it as soon as possible, before we get too far into the school year.”

 

Dean looked over at Mr Kane, who was smiling. He nudged Dylan, jerking him back to attention. “Dylan, did you know this?”

 

“Know what?” Dylan asked flatly.

 

“That you’re a genius?” Dean asked, grasping onto Dylan’s wrist, turning him towards him.

 

Dylan shrugged, finally meeting Dean’s eyes. “I’m not a genius. I’m just smarter than I’m supposed to be, so they’re trying to ship me off earlier.”

 

Sam smiled and chuckled softly. He cleared his throat and looked back at Mr Hall, before looking forward at Principal Kane. “Listen, I mean…skipping a grade is sort of a big deal, right?”

 

Dylan rolled his eyes. “It’s not a big deal, Mom.”

 

Ms Gonzalez narrowed her eyes and Mr Hall’s widened in surprise at that. 

 

Sam looked over at the two of them nervously, looking back to Dylan. “It’s uh…Sam is fine, Dylan,” he said quietly.

 

“No, it’s not,” Dean said loudly. “Listen, he calls me dad and he calls Sam mom. That probably makes you wanna get rid of him even more, huh?” he asked, grinning at Ms Gonzalez.

 

“Mr Winchester,” Mr Kane said warningly.

 

“Do we have to decide right now?” Sam asked.

 

Mr Kane shook his head. “Take the weekend. Take as long as you need. You can come in and see us all when you’ve decided. Okay?”

 

Sam nodded and stood up, sighing. He looked over at Dean, raising an eyebrow. “Do you have to snap at everybody?”

 

Dean shrugged, ruffling Dylan’s hair. “Hey, I got the kid genius over here. They should be begging to make me happy.”

 

Sam reached across and shook Mr Kane’s hand, turning to smile at Ms Gonzalez and shake Mr Hall’s hand. “We really have to think about this. And talk about it.” He wrapped an arm around Dylan’s shoulder, leading Dylan out of the office, followed by Dean, Ms Gonzalez and Mr Hall. 

 

“I gotta go back to class, Mom,” Dylan said, looking up at him.

 

Sam nodded. “Okay. Well…just try and do some work, okay? Even if you know it all, just do it.”

 

Dylan nodded and waved at Sam and Dean as he began following Ms Gonzalez back down the hallway.

 

Dean shoved his hands in his pockets and nodded. “I gotta get back to work, Sammy.”

 

Sam nodded and followed Dean outside into the bright sun, reaching out to grasp onto Dean’s hand. “So what do you think?” he asked, meeting Dean’s eyes.

 

Dean shrugged. “I don’t really know. We’re gonna talk to Dylan about it, right?”

 

Sam nodded, letting go of Dean’s hand in to climb into the car. “He doesn’t really seem like he cares either way. He was just staring at the wall.”

 

Dean laughed softly and climbed into the passenger side, grinning over at Sam. “Yeah, he gets that from me.”

 

Sam sighed and turned the key in the ignition, the engine roaring to life. “Dean, it’s a big deal, okay?”

 

“That he stares at walls?” Dean asked, buckling his seatbelt.

 

“No!” Sam exclaimed, pulling out of the parking lot. “Dean, Dylan is smart. He’s smart enough to skip a grade. Are we going to let him do it?”

 

“Is it really that big of a deal?” Dean asked. “I mean, I was…frig, like, ten when they asked Dad if I could skip a grade. And I didn’t and I turned out--”

 

“You were asked to skip a grade?” Sam interrupted, looking over at Dean in surprise. “You’re serious? Dean, but you-- I mean come on, you barely passed high school.”

 

“I never went,” Dean pointed out, speaking slowly. “Sam, they hand out those ‘accelerations’ like they’re frigging candy. And what, did you think you were the only smart kid in the family?” He looked over at Sam. “Well, you’re not. You’re just the only one who cared. I didn’t skip a grade because I couldn’t have cared less.”

 

“Well I don’t think Dylan cares either,” Sam pointed out. “I’m sorry, but I think it’s a big deal. I spent years wishing that somebody would say that I was smart enough to skip a grade.”

 

“You just wanted out earlier,” Dean muttered.

 

“I just wanted somebody to tell me that I was that smart,” Sam corrected. “I can’t believe that you-- I mean, why didn’t you ever tell me? Why did you let me tell Dylan that I was smarter than you? I mean…why’d you let me tell everybody that I was smarter than you? Now I feel bad.”

 

Dean sighed and shifted on the seat. “Sam, you are smarter than me. Just because somebody tells you can’t skip a grade doesn’t mean you’re stupid. I wasn’t good at everything, but you were. That’s why you got into Stanford. I was just like…really, really good at English and history and stuff.”

 

Sam shook his head in disbelief. “Okay, so what? Are you going to tell Dylan that he shouldn’t skip?”

 

“I’m going to tell Dylan that I think it should be up to him,” Dean replied. “Sam, if he’s not doing any work in his class, then of course he should go into a different one. But if he doesn’t want to be the youngest in his grade for the rest of his life, I mean…he’s already the kid with the gay parents. He’s the kid who calls a guy ‘mom’. You want him to be the kid who gets picked on for being smart?”

 

“I was never picked on for being smart,” Sam murmured, pulling to a stop at a red light.

 

Dean rolled his eyes. “And I’m sure that that had nothing to do with the fact that you were a head taller than everybody else.”

 

Sam shook his head. “Fine. Whatever. I’m not going to make him skip. In fact, I’m going to tell him not to. So he can end up just like his father.”

 

“What’s so wrong with that?” Dean demanded, turning in his seat. 

 

“You could’ve went to college!” Sam exclaimed. “You could’ve done something with your life. You could’ve left Dad and stopped hunting and--”

 

“I never wanted any of that!” Dean yelled. “I was happy being smart! I was happy not going to school! I was happy hunting! We’re not the same person, Sam.”

 

“Obviously not,” Sam muttered.

 

Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head, turning away from Sam.

 

* * * *

 

Dylan picked up his fork, looking back and forth between his parents. He took a bite of the spaghetti, chewing slowly. He swallowed and reached out for his glass, taking a sip of water. He sighed and sat back in his seat. “So what’s going on?” he asked.

 

Dean looked over at Dylan, shaking his head. “Nothing, Dyl. Just eat your supper.”

 

Dylan sighed again took another bite, shifting his eyes to Sam. “Is this about the whole grade thing?” he asked.

 

Sam looked over at Dylan. “We’re not mad at you, Dylan, don’t worry.”

 

“So why aren’t you guys making me talk about it?” Dylan asked. “I mean…I thought that we were supposed to talk about it.”

 

“Sam and I already talked about it,” Dean said.

 

“Oh,” Dylan said, nodding once. He swallowed hard and looked at his parents expectantly. “So…am I going to go to fifth grade or not?”

 

“No,” Sam replied, at the same time Dean answered, “Yes.”

 

Dylan rolled his eyes and picked up his fork, taking another bite. 

 

Sam looked over at Dean, cocking his head to the side.

 

“So uh…” Dylan cleared his throat and straightened up. “They gave me like, a letter or something, for you guys. Just something you’re supposed to read to help make the decision. It’s in my room.” He nodded once, waiting for somebody other than him to say something. “Are you guys sure you’re not mad at me? Did I do something?”

 

“You didn’t do anything,” Dean assured him quickly. “Sam and I just got in a bit of a tiff after the meeting at school.”

 

“What about?” Dylan asked, shifting in his seat. 

 

“Apparently, your father was asked to skip a grade when he was younger,” Sam explained, reaching out for his glass, “but he just didn’t care enough about school to do it.”

 

Dean smiled over at Dylan. “Apparently, your mother was a freak about school who--”

 

“I wasn’t a freak,” Sam interrupted, glaring at Dean.

 

Dean laughed softly before continuing on. “Who sat around waiting for somebody to tell him he was smart enough to skip a grade. In short, he’s a little bit jealous of you and I, Dylan.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes and pushed his chair back, picking up his dishes. “Dylan, why don’t you go get that letter? I’ll look it over.”

 

Dylan nodded slowly, pushing his chair back, standing up slowly. “Yeah…okay. I’ll be right back.”

 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were smart?” Sam asked, looking over at Dean from the sink.

 

Dean shrugged and stood up, picking up his plate and glass. “Did you ever ask? I mean, it’s not like we were best friends or anything, Sam. I’m four years older than you, I didn’t think I had to tell you ever. I mean, I never told you I was stupid or anything.”

 

“You told me that you barely graduated,” Sam pointed out, rinsing off his glass.

 

Dean nodded and pushed himself up onto the counter. “Yeah well, that’s true. But I also told you, I never went. I was always hunting or skipping.” He tilted his head to the side, reaching out to Sam. “Why are you mad at me?”

 

“I’m not,” Sam said quickly. “I’m not mad.”

 

“Why are you upset with me?” Dean asked, shifting on the counter.

 

“I just…” Sam trailed off, thinking for a moment. “You didn’t care about school. Apparently Dylan doesn’t either.”

 

“That’s not true,” Dean said quietly.

 

“That was all I ever cared about,” Sam continued. “I had to work for it. I had to work for that scholarship. I did hours of homework and studying and-- and you didn’t do anything and they said you could skip. Dylan stares at walls and they want him to skip.”

 

“I uh…” Dylan walked back into the kitchen, holding out a couple pieces of paper. “I have the letter. I kind of read it. It’s kind of weird. ‘Do the men in your families mature at a later or younger age physically?’” He looked up at Sam and Dean. “What’s that have to do with anything?”

 

“They don’t want you to be smaller than everybody in your class,” Dean explained, taking the letter. “I don’t think you’ll have a problem with that; you’re already taller than the average.” He kicked Sam gently in the leg, who just smiled. He scanned the page quickly, smiling to himself. “Social and emotional considerations.” He rolled his eyes. “Are you emotionally ready to be in the fifth grade, Dylan?”

 

“I don’t think I know what that means,” Dylan admitted. “I’m not sure I’m emotionally ready to be in the fourth grade.”

 

Dean laughed loudly, shaking his head. “Alright, alright, let’s read this. ‘Have you spoken to your son about this? What are his feelings? The biggest mistake would be to force him to do something he may not desire, be it grade skipping or staying on.’” Dean looked over at Dylan expectantly. “Okay, Dylan, what do you think about the idea of being in the fifth grade.”

 

Dylan shrugged. “I mean, Mr Hall showed me what he teaches, and I can do it.”

 

“But what about the idea of being the youngest in your grade?” Sam asked. “Or graduating a year early?”

 

“I don’t…” Dylan thought for a second, “know. I mean, I’m taller than a lot of the boys, so my age doesn’t really matter. And graduating is still way off.”

 

Dean nodded once. “ Is he really much less physically matured than his classmates?’ Nope.” He read over the rest of the papers and handed them over to Sam. “Well, I think it might be nice to have an answer by Monday, but whenever you decide Dylan, that’s fine.”

 

“Will you guys…” Dylan sighed, “will you guys be disappointed either way?”

 

“Why would we be disappointed?” Sam asked, frowning.

 

“Well you just said that Dad didn’t skip, and he said that you always wanted to,” Dylan began explaining, “so either way, I’m doing something that one of you guys don’t want me to do.”

 

“I’m just gonna say this,” Dean said, hopping off the counter. “Dylan, I hated school. I really did. I cared more about hunting and girls than school. Sam loved school. He cared more about school than anything else. I guess you just gotta figure out how you feel about school.”

 

“Well, I like it,” Dylan said simply.

 

Sam nodded and read the letter. “Yeah well, we’ve got all weekend. I don’t want you to stress yourself out or anything.” He set the letter down on the counter and picked up one of the plates, washing it. “Either way, fine by me.”

 

“Yep,” Dean agreed, wrapping an arm around Dylan’s shoulder. “Now come on, let’s go…do something.”

 

* * * *

 

“Good to go?” Dean asked, sitting on the edge of Dylan’s bed.

 

Dylan nodded, grinning up at his father.

 

“Alright, high five,” Dean said, raising his hand, palm open. He grinned when Dylan smacked it and leaned down, kissing Dylan’s forehead. “Now get some sleep.”

 

Dylan nodded and shifted under the sheets, curling onto his side.

 

Dean stood up and walked over to the door, flicking off the lights before stepping out into the hall, pulling the door closed behind him. He walked down the hallway and stopped in the living room, looking around. “Bedroom?” he called.

 

“Uh, yeah!” Sam called back, appearing at the door. “Sorry, I was just--”

 

Dean waved his hand and flopped down on the couch, patting the cushion beside him.

 

“I was just looking for something,” Sam finished, sitting down on the couch beside Dean.

 

Dena sighed and reached out, wrapping an arm around Sam, pulling him down onto him. “Whatever,” he said softly, kissing Sam’s temple. “You wanna watch a movie or something?”

 

Sam nodded slowly, snuggling into Dean. “Find something.”

 

“Scary?” Dean asked.

 

Sam shrugged. “They never are.”

 

Dean smiled and laughed softly. “Maybe tonight.” He grabbed the remote and turned on the television, going to the movie channels. “What were you looking for?” he asked, turning on Sleepaway Camp.

 

Sam laughed at the movie selection before looking up at Dean. “Oh…nothing. Just something in the closet.”

 

Dean nodded understandingly, not really wanting to know what Sam was looking for. “Oh, okay. Well, we’re watching this.”

 

Sam smiled. “I figured as much. You think we’re ever not going to laugh at this movie?”

 

Dean laughed at that. “Yeah, right.”

 

* * * *

 

Sam shifted on the grass, digging through his pocket.

 

“Okay, so then you go just let go,” Dean directed at Dylan, covering Dylan’s hand with his. “It has to roll off the fingers.”

 

“It seems really big,” Dylan said, looking up at Dean. “Don’t we have a smaller one?”

 

“Practice with this one,” Dean said, jogging back across the lawn. “So come on, through it at me, Brady.”

 

“Who?” Dylan asked, bringing his arm back.

 

“Tom B--” Dean began, before shaking his head. “Never mind. Football player. Just throw it.”

 

Dylan threw the ball, dropping his eyes as soon as he realized that it wasn’t going to Dean. 

 

“So you’re there now?” Sam asked, pulling his phone back to check the time. “Yeah, I mean…Dylan might wanna go or something. I’ll ask.” He pulled the phone back, holding it to his shoulder. “Paula’s at the hospital getting an ultrasound, wants to know if we wanna see it.”

 

“Like, she’ll send it to us?” Dean asked, picking up the football.

 

“No like, go see it,” Sam explained. “They’re all there, gonna find out if it’s a boy or a girl.”

 

“Boy,” Dean said, throwing the ball over to Dylan, wincing when it hit Dylan’s fingers and fell to the ground. 

 

“Dean?” Sam asked insistently. “Yes or no?”

 

“Yes!” Dean cried, walking back over to Dylan. “Good lord.”

 

“Yeah, we’ll be there,” Sam said to Paula. “Okay, bye.” He turned off his phone and stood up, shoving it back in his pocket. “You wanna go see a baby, Dylan?” he asked.

 

“But Dad and I are--” Dylan began, before he met Sam’s eyes. “Okay, fine.”

 

Dean took the ball from Dylan, tossing it up into the air. “You know how babies are made, Dylan?”

 

Dylan looked up at Dean. “Um…not exactly. We haven’t started sex-ed yet.”

 

Dean sighed and walked up the steps, opening the porch door, tossing the football inside. “Are you gonna ask how babies are made?” he asked, walking into the kitchen, quickly grabbing his keys.

 

Dylan shook his head slowly. “Not today.”

 

“Good boy,” Dean nodded, locking the doors behind them. 

 

“She won’t be like, naked?” Dylan asked, climbing into the car. “Will she? ‘Cause I don’t wanna see Paula naked.”

 

“She won’t be naked,” Sam assured him. “Her stomach will be bare, but I think that’s it.” He opened the car door and climbed in, buckling his seatbelt. “Albany and Cillian will be there.”

 

Dylan nodded. “Why is Paula having another baby if she already has two kids?”

 

“Some people just have a lot of kids, Dylan,” Dean replied, turning the wheel. “Some people have a lot more than three.”

 

“Why don’t we have any more?” Dylan asked, picking at his seatbelt.

 

“Uh…” Sam looked over at Dean helplessly, “because we don’t need one. You’re good enough.”

 

“Does that mean that Cillian and Albany aren’t good enough for Paula and Michael?” Dylan asked.

 

“No!” Sam exclaimed. “Definitely not, that’s not what that means. I just…your father and I just…we’re having enough fun raising you, Dyl. That’s all. We got all the kids we need.”

 

* * * *

 

“Hi!” Paula exclaimed, waving her hand.

 

“Hi Paula,” Dean said, walking into the room, followed by Sam and Dylan. “How you feeling?”

 

“Whoo,” Paula sighed, patting her stomach. “Pregnant.”

 

Dean grinned, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “Yeah well…you are.” He turned when he felt a hand on his shoulder. “Hey Mike, how’s it going?”

 

“Great,” Michael nodded, shifting Albany in his arms. “Just hanging out.”

 

Dean smiled at Albany, waggling his fingers at him. “How you feeling, Alby?”

 

“Okay,” Albany replied quietly.

 

“What about you, Cillian?” Dean asked, crouching down a little. “Ready to find out whether you’re gonna have another little brother?”

 

Cillian nodded and pushed his glasses up. “I hope it’s a boy. I don’t want a girl.”

 

“Don’t blame ya,” Dean smiled, patting Cillian’s shoulder. 

 

“Hi, Dylan,” Cillian said, walking over to him.

 

“Hi,” Dylan said, moving closer to Sam. “How are you?”

 

“Good,” Cillian nodded. “Have you ever seen one of these before?”

 

Dylan shook his head. “Have you?”

 

Cillian nodded again. “When Mommy was having Alby.”

 

“What does it do?” Dylan asked, walking with Cillian over to the ultrasound machine.

 

“I think it sees inside her tummy,” Cillian explained. “So that we can see the baby. We’re going to find out whether it’s a boy or a girl.”

 

“Does it hurt?” Dylan asked, looking up at Paula. 

 

“Does what hurt?” Paula asked, shifting on the bed.

 

“When they look inside your stomach,” Dylan explained.

 

Paula smiled and shook her head. “No, it doesn’t. It’s a little cold, is all.”

 

Michael walked over to Sam, smiling up at him. “So how’s Dylan liking fourth grade?”

 

Sam swallowed and nodded. “Good. Actually they uh…they asked him if he wanted to skip it.”

 

“Wow,” Michael said, eyes wide. “Maybe I should get you guys to raise my kids.”

 

“Are you in school yet, Alby?” Sam asked, taking Albany from Michael. 

 

Albany shook his head, looking up at Sam. “I’m in preschool.”

 

“Oh, right,” Sam nodded. “You’re turning five in December, right?”

 

Albany nodded.

 

“You’re gonna be on the oldest in your class,” Sam said, shifting Albany in his arms. “Are you getting excited for the baby?”

 

Albany shook his head again. “I wanna be the baby.”

 

“Oh, trust me Albany, you can still be a baby,” Sam assured him, smiling at Michael. “Hoping for a boy, or girl, Mike?”

 

Michael shrugged, grinning. “Another boy would great, little girl would be too. I think Paula wants a girl after these two rugrats.”

 

“When’s the doctor coming?” Dean asked, shifting in his seat. 

 

Sam rolled his eyes, smiling down at Albany. “You want a little sister, Alby?”

 

Albany nodded. “Yeah,” he said absentmindedly, looking around the room.

 

“Thinking of any names?” Sam asked Michael, looking past him to keep an eye on Dylan.

 

Michael shrugged. “Yeah, we got a couple. I think Paula’s looking forward to a girl mainly for the names.”

 

Sam laughed softly and stepped out of the way when the doctor appeared behind him.

 

The doctor looked around the crowded room in surprise, eyes wide. “Wow, big family.”

 

“We’re not all family,” Dean said, standing up. 

 

“They’re close friends,” Paula explained, smiling up at the doctor. “Sam, Dean, this is Doctor Clark. Doctor Clark, Sam and Dean are Cillian’s godfathers.”

 

Doctor Clark smiled and nodded politely at them, pulling a chair up by the bed. “So, you want to find out the sex today?” he asked, moving Paula’s gown up over his stomach, grabbing the gel. 

 

Paula looked over at Michael, who was nodding.

 

“What are they doing to Mommy?” Albany asked Sam, pulling his thumb out of his mouth.

 

“They’re checking on the baby,” Sam explained, walking over to the foot of the bed. “They’re gonna see if it’s a boy or a girl.”

 

Albany’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “But I don’t wanna know!” he cried, looking over at Michael. His eyes filled with tears and he began to cry. “Daddy, I don’t wanna know.”

 

Michael looked over at Albany, walking over to Sam. “What’s going on, buddy?” he asked, brushing his fingers through Albany’s hair. “What don’t you wanna know?”

 

“I don’t wanna know if it’s a boy or girl!” Albany exclaimed. “Daddy, don’t find out.” He wiped at his eyes, sniffling. “I don’t want a baby!”

 

Michael sighed and looked over at Paula, who was trying to see the screen. “Paula…we’re gonna be in the hallway. Sam?”

 

Sam nodded and followed behind Michael, trying to smile over at Dean. 

 

Michael closed the door behind them, taking Albany out of Sam’s arms, holding him to his chest.

 

Sam sighed and leaned against the door, watching Michael with Albany.

 

“Why does Mommy have to have another baby?” Albany sobbed, wiping at his eyes. “I wanna be the baby!”

 

“You’ll always be my baby,” Michael said softly, looking over at Sam, “but we’re just going to have another one. It’ll be okay. I’ll love you just as much.”

 

Albany began to cry even harder, face red. “I don’t want another one,” he whined, trying to wiggle out of Michael’s grip. “I don’t want another baby!”

 

Michael looked over at Sam helplessly.

 

Sam swallowed hard and stepped towards them, taking Albany back out of Michael’s arms, shushing him. “Alby, why you crying?”

 

Albany sniffled and rubbed his nose on Sam’s shirt, looking up at him. “They won’t want me and Cill anymore.”

 

“That’s not true,” Sam said quietly. “That’s not true at all. They’ll love all of you. They still loved Cillian after you were born, right?” he asked, looking over at Michael, who was shifting awkwardly.

 

Albany nodded slowly, sticking his thumb back in his mouth.

 

“You’ll be a big brother,” Sam continued on. “You’ll get to help take care of the baby. Right?”

 

“Can I help name it?” Albany asked, looking over at Michael.

 

“Oh uh…” Michael trailed off. “If we let you name it, we gotta let Cillian help name it too.”

 

“Daddy,” Albany whined. “Please?”

 

“I’ll have to talk to your mother,” Michael said, walking over to Sam, taking Albany again. “Do you wanna know now?” he asked, running his fingers through Albany’s hair.

 

Albany shook his head. “No. Don’t tell me.”

 

Michael kissed Albany’s forehead, nodding. “I promise. And I’ll get everybody else to promise too.” He looked down at Albany. “What do you wanna name the baby?” he asked quietly.

 

Albany brightened up and looked over at Sam.

 

Sam swallowed hard and smiled, shaking his head. “Oh no, Alby, you can’t do that. You don’t have to do that. Michael, don’t do that.”

 

Michael smiled and reached over, opening the door just a crack. “You guys done in there yet?”

 

“Almost!” Doctor Clark called back.

 

Michael pulled the door closed, smiling over at Sam. “Don’t worry about it; I doubt Paula will go for it.”

 

“Daddy, we can name the baby Sam!” Albany exclaimed. “That’s a nice name.”

 

“It is a nice name,” Michael smiled, and Sam blushed, “but what if it’s a girl?”

 

“It can be a girls name too!” Albany said. 

 

“Oh, please don’t name it Sam if it’s a girl,” Sam pleaded, “Dean would never let me live it down.”

 

Michael grinned. “Yeah, I can imagine. But…Alby, we can bring it up to Mommy later, okay? You tell her you wanna name it Sam, and we’ll see.”

 

“Okay,” Albany said happily, smiling at Sam.

 

Sam looked up when the door opened and Dylan ran out, grabbing onto him. “Dylan, what’s going on?” he asked, lifting Dylan up into his arms.

 

“There’s a baby in there, Mom!” Dylan exclaimed. “I saw it!”

 

Sam smiled and glanced into the room. “Wow.”

 

“You sure you don’t wanna see it, Alby?” Michael asked.

 

“Hmm,” Albany thought for a moment, “we can see it. But I don’t wanna know.”

 

“Okay, nobody say what it is!” Michael announced, walking into the room. “Alby doesn’t want to know and we just calmed him down. He just wants to see it.” He closed the door behind them.

 

Dylan shifted in Sam’s arms, finally realizing that maybe he was getting too big for his parents to carry him. “Mom, was I in your belly?”

 

Sam’s eyes widened and he leaned down, letting Dylan out of his arms. “Um…what?”

 

“Paula said that’s where babies come from,” Dylan explained. “But…she said that they’re in girls’ bellies. Where did I come from?”

 

Sam’s eyes began to fill with tears and he blinked furiously, trying to keep them down. “Um…Dylan, I--” he looked up when the door opened again and Dean stepped out.

 

“What’s this about naming the kid Sam?” Dean asked, frowning when he saw Sam’s tears. “Sammy?”

 

Sam shook his head, wiping at his eyes.

 

“Dad, whose belly was I in?” Dylan asked, looking up at him.

 

Dean swallowed hard and took a deep breath, looking over at Sam. “You know, Dylan, I think that this talk would be a lot better at home, where we could sit down.”

 

“Are we going now?” Dylan asked.

 

Dean nodded eagerly, looking over at Sam. “I’ll just--” he opened the door and stuck his head in, “we’re gonna head out now, Dylan wants to get going.” He smiled at everyone. “Bye.” He let Dylan run ahead of them and grabbed onto Sam’s arm. “What the hell are we going to say?” he demanded.

 

Sam shook his head. “I don’t know. I…I don’t know. He’s too young to know the truth. He needs to be older to really appreciate it. And to not tell anybody else.”

 

Dean sighed. “This is too much.”

 

* * * *

 

Sam dropped his eyes, taking a deep breath.

 

“So?” Dylan asked, trying to get one of his parents to speak. “Where am I from?”

 

Dean looked over at Sam, who was still staring at his hands. “Dylan…this is…really hard to tell you. It is.”

 

Sam lifted his head slowly, looking at Dylan. “You’re adopted,” he said finally.

 

“Huh?” Dylan said, at the same time that Dean’s eyes went wide and his jaw dropped.

 

“You’re adopted,” Sam said again, voice rough. “We adopted you…the day you were born. We never wanted you to know, because we thought that-- that it would make you feel differently about us. We’re sorry.” He sniffled and wiped at his eyes, picking at his jeans.

 

Dylan stared at the floor in front of him, gnawing on his bottom lip. “So…I don’t get anything from you,” he said after awhile.

 

Sam let out a quiet sob, body trembling. “No,” he said finally. 

 

“Sam,” Dean said quietly, wanting to reach out to him.

 

“Where are my real parents?” Dylan asked suddenly, straightening up.

 

Sam shook his head, wiping at his eyes. He looked over at Dean, pleading with his eyes.

 

“Your father,” Dean began, clearing his throat to try and think of the best lie, “died and your mother was young. She couldn’t raise a baby on her own.” He wiped at his eyes, trying not to glare at Sam. “And that’s…it, I guess.”

 

Dylan brought his hand up to his mouth, biting at the skin around his nails. He sighed and shook his head, closing his eyes. Eventually, minutes later, he pushed himself up, shifting awkwardly on his feet. He walked over to Dean, wrapping an arm around his neck. “I love you,” he said quietly. He walked over to Sam, hugging him, kissing his cheek. “It’s okay, Mom.”

 

Sam hugged him back, sobbing into Dylan’s chest. “Ye-- yeah. Okay.”

 

Dylan pulled back and swallowed hard, stepping back from the couch. “I’m gonna go to my room. Think about school and…stuff.” He walked out of the living room and down the hall, trailing his fingers along the wall.

 

Sam let out another loud sob, shoulders shaking and he stood up as fast as he could, hurrying into the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

 

Dean stood up slowly, tears in his eyes and shook his head. He quickly walked out of the living room and into the kitchen, slipping his feet into his boots, grabbing his keys. He sighed and walked outside, going down the driveway to the car. He climbed in slowly and stuck the key in the ignition, squeezing his eyes shut. He began to cry, fingers clutching the wheel tightly.

 

* * * *

 

Sam stared down at the kitchen table, fingers tracing shapes on the polished wood. He let out a deep breath and sighed, trying to keep himself from crying again.

 

Dean pushed open the kitchen door, swallowing when he saw Sam at the table.

 

Sam’s eyes quickly looked up and he made a small noise, before looking back down at the table.

 

“Where is he?” Dean asked quietly, voice rough, toeing off his boots.

 

Sam rolled a shoulder in the direction of Dylan’s room, tears filling his eyes again. He wiped at them furiously, shaking his head. “Bedroom,” he answered finally. “I couldn’t get him to come up for supper.” He dropped his eyes, ashamed, and brought his legs up on his chair, wrapping one arm around them, resting his head on his knees. 

 

Dean stared at Sam, studying him, before he finally looked past him, in the direction of Dylan’s room and he nodded once. He walked by Sam and through the living room, going down the hallway. He walked into the bedroom, looking over at Dylan, who was lying on the bed, curled up on his side. “Do you hate us?” he asked softly, causing Dylan to visible jump.

 

Dylan shook his head and tightened his arms around his pillow. “Just wasn’t hungry,” he answered.

 

Dean nodded understandingly, sitting down on the edge of the bed, reaching out to gently run his fingers through Dylan’s hair.

 

“I mean…I don’t know, I guess it all sort of makes sense,” Dylan began, still staring at the wall in front of him. “Boys don’t have babies, I think I knew that. At least, I’ve never heard of a boy having a baby. I think I should’ve of figured it out.”

 

Dean closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. “We still love you, though. Everybody does. Grampie, Bobby…Bobby’s not really related to any of us and he’s still our family.”

 

Dylan nodded. “I still love you too,” he said quietly, sniffling. He wiped at his eyes, finally looking up from Dean.

 

“Dylan, I wish that we had…that this had gone differently,” Dean admitted softly. “We wanted you to know the truth when you were older. Please don’t think of us any differently.”

 

Dylan shook his head. “I don’t.” He wiped his cheeks and lifted his head. “I think I wanna go into the fifth grade.”

 

Dean sighed and nodded, patting Dylan’s shoulder. “Well, you have as long as you want to make up your mind. Don’t make this choice right now just because of this, okay?”

 

Dylan shook his head. “I’m just gonna…stay down here, okay?” he asked, looking back at the wall.

 

Dean nodded and stood up, kissing the top of Dylan’s head. “We’ll be around, If you need us.” He walked over to the door, walking down the hallway. He sniffled and wiped at his eyes, pushing open the door to his bedroom. “Sam,” he sighed, closing the door behind him. He walked over to the bed, dropping down. He reached out and grabbed onto one of his pillows, clutching it in his arms as he laid down on his side.

 

Sam looked up when he heard Dean say his name, still picking at the table. He wrapped both arms around his knees and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before yawning loudly.

 

* * * *

 

Dean woke up to the sound of quiet knocking on the bedroom door. He lifted his head and cleared his throat, realizing that Sam wasn’t with him, and that it was dark outside. “Yeah?” he called softly.

 

The door opened slowly and there was Sam, shoulders slouched, hand gripping the doorframe.

 

“Yeah,” Dean said, moving on the bed.

 

Sam nodded and walked into the bedroom, sitting down on the mattress. “I don’t know why I said it,” he said quietly . “It just came out.”

 

Dean looked up at Sam, the anger that he’d held in for the past few hours finally boiling over. “You told our son that he isn’t ours!” he yelled, pushing himself up. “You told him that he was adopted and it just came out?”

 

“I know!” Sam yelled back, standing up quickly. “I know! I can’t-- god Dean, why didn’t I just tell him the truth?”

 

Dean shook his head, dropping down onto the bed. “He-- he’s-- why did he have to ask?” His shoulders hunched over and he began to cry into his hands, body shaking. “Why did he even have to ask?”

 

Sam shook his head, slumping against the wall. “I lied. I lied,” he muttered in disbelief. “All I ever wanted him to know, since he was born, was that I carried him, that I am his mother and the first chance I get, I lied. I lied and when he finds out he’ll hate me for it.”

 

Dean lifted his head. “We’re still gonna tell him the truth?” he asked in disbelief. He swung his legs off the bed, ready to stand up. 

 

“Yes!” Sam exclaimed. “Of course we are! Dean, I can’t keep this lie going. I can’t-- I-- I have to tell him the truth.” He stood up and began to walk over to the door, before Dean grabbed onto his wrist.

 

“Sam,” Dean said, “no. We can’t. Not now. Not after we just told him this.”

 

“I don’t want him to think it’s true!” Sam yelled, yanking his wrist out of Dean’s grip, walking out the door. “He has to know now!”

 

“Then why didn’t you tell him the truth in the first place?” Dean demanded, following quickly behind Sam. “You just told him he’s adopted and now you wanna tell him this? He’s not going to know what to believe! And he’ll probably never believe us again.”

 

“Dylan!” Sam called, going into the living room. “Wake up!” He turned to Dean. “Dean, I have to tell him. I shouldn’t’ve lied but I didn’t know how to say it. I do now.”

 

“Sam, you can’t,” Dean said angrily. “Not now. Not after what you just told him. What if he tells somebody?”

 

Dylan walked up the hallway slowly, eyes bloodshot. “Tells somebody what? I think everybody probably guessed that I’m adopted,” he yawned softly and fixed his shirt.

 

Sam’s bottom lip began to tremble and he looked at Dylan, studying him, before looking back at Dean, who was shaking his head. He looked back at Dylan, dropping to his knees in front of him, wrapping his arms around Dylan, crying. “It’s not-- I lied, it’s not true. It’s not true Dylan, and I’m sorry. Please forgive me, Dylan, I’m sorry. I didn’t think you should know.”

 

Dylan set his hands on Sam’s shoulders, looking up at Dean. “What?”

 

Sam sniffled and pulled back, wiping his eyes. “You’re not adopted.”

 

“Sam,” Dean said warningly. “Dylan, go back to your room. Go back to sleep. Forget-- forget that this day ever happened.”

 

Sam shook his head, looking up at Dylan, reaching up to grasp onto his hand. “I lied because I thought that you were too young to know the truth. But you’re not. You’re really not. And I think that if we explain it that-- that you can understand. I don’t want you to think that we adopted you. We’re your parents Dylan, I swear we are.”

 

Dylan sat down in front of Sam, Sam’s hand still in his. “But you can’t be. You’re a boy, Mom and boys don’t have babies.”

 

Sam sniffled and looked up at Dean hopefully. “Please,” he said softly.

 

Dean shifted on his feet before sitting down on the floor with them, reaching out for Dylan. “Dylan, he’s telling the truth. We’re your parents.”

 

Dylan’s eyes opened wide and he shook his head. “But-- but you told me--”

 

“I know what I told you. But can I explain it to you?” Sam asked. “Just-- just let us explain it to you…and…and tell you the truth. Okay? The real truth this time.”

 

Dylan looked at his parents, studying them closely in the dark living room, tears running down their cheeks. “Yeah,” he said finally. “I wanna hear it. The real truth. Whatever it is.”

 

Sam closed his eyes and let out a sigh of relief, reaching over to grasp onto Dean’s hand, squeezing it.

 

Dean nodded and cleared his throat, looking at Dylan. “You know what we do sometimes, right? With the ghosts and demons and…what Grampie does all of the time, right?”

 

Dylan nodded slowly before yawning again. “Yeah. I know. Grampie and Bobby talk about it a lot more than you guys though.”

 

Dean nodded. “But you know that we do it too, right?” he asked.

 

“Yeah,” Dylan nodded. 

 

“Good,” Dean breathed. “That really makes this a lot easier.” He sighed, looking over at Sam, who was watching him back. “It was…July, two thousand and six, and your mom and I were in Fort Worth, Texas. There was a guy who was possessed. You what that means, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Dylan said. “There was a demon in him.”

 

Dean smiled weakly. “There was man, and he had a demon named Rosier in him. And Rosier was-- we didn’t know what he was at the time.” He looked over at Sam, wondering exactly what the truth was that they wanted Dylan to know right now.

 

Sam seemed to understand what Dean wanted and he cleared his throat. “He touched me, my stomach, and it made me be able to get pregnant. Boys don’t have babies Dylan, you’re right. But Rosier made me able to. Later on…your father and I…had sex. Do you know what sex is?”

 

“I’m not sure,” Dylan admitted, shifting awkwardly. “Maybe.”

 

“It’s what gets people pregnant,” Sam said quickly. “And a few weeks later, I started to get sick, like pregnant women and I started to put on weight, and I started to feel like there was something in me. And there was.” He grinned and new tears spilled over. “It was you,” he said happily. “It was you, Dylan. You were my baby. But boys don’t get pregnant, and the only people that ever knew the truth were Grampie and Bobby. Because they know about the hunting and the demons and the supernatural. They understood.”

 

Dylan reached up and scratched at his arm, taking it all in. “How was I born?” he asked finally.

 

Sam sighed and got up on his knees, slowly lifting up his shirt.

 

“I thought that’s where that man cut you,” Dylan said, reaching out for the scar.

 

“It’s the same spot,” Sam explained, watching Dylan’s fingers trace the scar. “That man was Rosier. He came back, he was mad at us for sending him to Hell. So he cut me open again. He tried to kill me for it.”

 

“Grampie cut you out,” Dean said. “In our bedroom at our first house. Our apartment in Anaheim. Your mom was on the bed and I held you for the first time and you cried and you-- you’re our son, Dylan. But you understand why we don’t tell anyone, right?”

 

“Because nobody would understand,” Dylan said quietly. “I guess…that’s sort of why you guys didn’t have another baby, right?”

 

Dean nodded and leaned in, kissing Dylan’s forehead. “Please don’t tell anybody, Dylan.”

 

“I won’t,” Dylan promised. “I won’t.”

 

* * * *

 

Sam ran his fingers through Dylan’s hair, smiling down at him. He looked over at Dean, before lying back down in the bed. “I feel better,” he said quietly, meeting Dean’s eyes in the dark.

 

Dean nodded tiredly, reaching up to adjust his pillow. “I have to call Dad sometime, tell him. I think he’ll be happy.”

 

Sam nodded and reached over Dylan, linking fingers with Dean. “Do you think Dylan will tell?”

 

Dean shook his head. “Dylan’s always known we’re not normal, Sam. He never told anybody the truth about the Wendigo or about his telekinesis or any of it. He knows he can’t tell. He’s a smart kid.”

 

Sam smiled. “That’s an understatement. You think he wants to skip fourth grade?” he asked, before yawning, snuggling against Dylan.

 

Dean shrugged. “I think he’s worried about disappointing us. I think he’s a little scared he won’t do well in fifth grade.” He kissed Dylan’s head, fixing the sheets. “But I think that he’s a Winchester, and I think that means he’s gonna try it.”

 

Sam smiled and nodded understandingly.

 

* * * *

 

“What if they don’t like me?” Dylan asked, grabbing onto Sam’s hand. “What if it’s a lot harder than I thought it was?”

 

Dean smiled sympathetically. “Dylan, you know a couple of them right? From Mr Daylin’s class. I’m sure you’ll make friends quickly. And I know that you can do this work.”

 

“If I don’t like it, can I go back to Ms Gonzalez’s class?” Dylan asked, looking up at his parents.

 

Sam smiled and nodded slowly. “If that’s what you want, then yeah. We just want you to be happy kiddo.”

 

Dylan nodded and reached up, knocking lightly on Mr Hall’s door. He pushed it open, walking slowly into the room, gripping Sam’s hand even tighter. “Hi, Mr Hall,” he called quietly, leading his parents over to Mr Hall’s desk.

 

Mr Hall grinned and stood up. “How are you feeling, Dylan?” he asked, stepping out from behind his desk.

 

“Nervous,” Dylan admitted.

 

Mr Hall nodded understandingly. “Of course.” He looked up at Sam and Dean. “How are you two?”

 

“Good,” Dean nodded, reaching out to shake Mr Hall’s hand.

 

“Just as nervous as him,” Sam admitted, still holding onto Dylan’s hand. 

 

Mr Hall smiled. “Well, I’ve seen your work Dylan and I’ve talked to previous teachers. I think that you’re going to do fine in this class.”

 

Dylan beamed proudly. “But…if I don’t like it, or it’s hard…what do I do? Do I go back to Ms Gonzalez’s class?”

 

“I think that could be arranged,” Mr Hall nodded. “So this is your desk, over here,” he said, leading Dylan over to a desk in the second row. “I hope this is okay. You don’t need to sit in the very front, do you?”

 

Dylan shook his head and shrugged off his backpack, setting it on his chair. “How much have I missed this year?”

 

“Just some review from last year,” Mr Hall explained, sitting down on the desk in front of Dylan’s. “If today at lunch, you need to come in and ask for some help, that’s fine. I’m always available for extra help.”

 

Sam cleared his throat and crouched down a little. “I’ve got to get your dad to work, Dyl, are you gonna be okay?”

 

Dylan nodded, even though his stomach was full of butterflies.

 

Sam pulled Dylan in for a hug, squeezing him gently. “If you need anything, you can call either of us, okay? Just tell Mr Hall.” He stepped back and gave Dean room to move in.

 

“Be good, kiddo,” Dean said, hugging Dylan. “Don’t stare at the wall, don’t doodle. I want you to pay attention, okay? Ask questions if you have to.”

 

Dylan nodded.

 

Dean straightened up, kissing Dylan’s head. “Have a good day, okay? We wanna hear all about it later.”

 

Dylan nodded and moved his backpack, climbing up onto his chair. “Bye,” he said softly, one hand on his stomach. “Love you.”

 

“Love you too,” Sam said, waving as he and Dean began walking towards the door.

 

“This’ll be okay, right Dylan?” Mr Hall asked, standing up. 

 

Dylan took a deep breath and nodded slowly. “I really hope so.”


	17. Chapter 17

Title: Look What Love Has Done - Volume 3 - Chapter 17

Pairing: Sam/Dean

Disclaimer: Not mine

Rating: NC-17 this chapter

Summary: Paula goes into labor and has her third child, but the Winchesters aren't sure she knows how to take care of the ones she has.

Author's Note: Forget volume one, forget volume two; this is volume three 

 

 

nine years, eight months and twenty days old

 

Sam reached over in his bed and turned up the radio, lying back. He yawned softly and closed his eyes, bobbing his head slowly to the music. He gasped softly, reaching down to entangle his fingers in Dean’s hair, guiding his head up and down. 

 

Dean moaned around Sam, sending vibrations through Sam’s dick and up Sam’s spine. He opened his eyes and looked up at Sam, smiling around his dick. He moved his mouth up, swirling his tongue around the head before pulling off, panting softly. “Love you,” he breathed, pushing himself back, grabbing onto Sam’s hair to pull him in for a kiss.

 

Sam moaned into Dean’s mouth, cupping him by the back of the neck. He nodded eagerly as he pulled away, nipping at Dean’s lips. “Love you,” he echoed, moving one of his hands to Dean’s shoulder, fingers flexing into his muscles. 

 

Dean kissed Sam again and began working his mouth downwards again, licking at Sam’s scars and moles, hot mouth sucking on the skin. He pulled back slightly and reached out, tracing his fingers along the scars on Sam’s left arm, able to pick out where almost all of the skin grafts had been placed. “Can you feel this?” he asked, meeting Sam’s eyes.

 

Sam nodded once before shrugging, shifting under Dean. “I’m not sure.”

 

Dean leaned in, sucking on patch of skin of Sam’s arms, tongue working. He pulled back. “Feel that?”

 

Sam sighed and shook his head. “Not really.”

 

Dean sighed and sat back on his heels, swallowing hard. 

 

Sam sat up and smiled at Dean before kissing him, running his fingers up and down Dean’s arms, sliding his tongue in to work against Dean’s. “It’s okay, Dean,” he assured him quietly. “What, did you think I’d suddenly get the feeling back overnight?” 

 

Dean smiled weakly and shook his head. “Doesn’t hurt to check.” He shifted on the bed and leaned down, opening his mouth around the head of Sam’s dick.

 

Sam gasped and jerked his hips up, digging his hands back into Dean’s skull.

 

Dean dug one hand into Sam’s thigh and reached the other one down, wrapping his fingers around himself, jerking himself off quickly.

 

Sam moaned loudly when he realized where Dean’s hand went and he began working his hips a bit quicker, dragging the fingers of one hand down Dean’s back, unable to help kneading the muscles beneath the long expanse of tanned skin. 

 

Dean jerked his hips into his fist, trying to push himself up into Sam’s massage and his mouth popped off Sam, smearing precum across his cheek. He smiled and moved back down, taking his hand off Sam’s thigh to move it up to his chest, scrapping his nails gently across Sam’s nipple.

 

Sam’s breath hitched once, and then again and his legs spread a little more, nails digging into Dean’s back. “Oh god,” he whined, hips jerking a couple more times before he came, eyes squeezing shut as he felt Dean swallow around him, jaw working. Sam’s head fell forward and he watched Dean pull off, a string of saliva and come still connected.

 

Dean straightened up and his hands instantly went to Sam’s still too long hair, whining into Sam’s mouth, body trembling.

 

Sam reached between them and wrapped his long fingers around Dean’s cock, jerking him quickly.

 

Dean broke the kiss and rest his cheek against Sam’s shoulder, breathing heavily as his orgasm began twisting and coiling in his stomach, curling his toes and making his eyes squeeze shut before it shot out his dick. 

 

Sam kept working his hand gently and he turned his head, breathing warm air onto Dean’s ear, before nipping and sucking at his earlobe. He waited until Dean stopped jerking into his hand and peeled off his fingers, smiling as Dean fell off him and landed on the mattress with a small bounce. He shifted and moved his legs in front of him, grabbing the hem of the bed sheets to wipe Dean’s come off his stomach. He rubbed at his face, lying down beside Dean, arm thrown over his hip, wiggling in closer. “Pretty damn good New Year, huh?”

 

Dean smiled and rolled onto his back, pulling at the sheets.

 

* * * *

 

Dean opened the door and smiled at Michael, stepping out of the way to let him usher Cillian and Albany inside. “Did you at least drop her off at the hospital first?”

 

Michael smiled and nodded, reaching out to ruffle Albany’s hair. “She doesn’t want them running around the waiting room, our family’s not coming in today. You’re sure this is no problem, right?”

 

“Just don’t make it one of the seventy-two hour labors, and it’ll be fine,” Dean assured him. 

 

“Do you guys wanna come down to my room?” Dylan asked, pushing himself off the kitchen chair.

 

Cillian nodded and reached out, grasping onto Albany’s hand, following Dylan out of the kitchen.

 

“Alby still freaking out about the baby?” Dean asked, looking around to make sure that Albany couldn’t hear. 

 

Michael sighed and nodded, leaning against the doorframe. “I think he really thinks that we’re just gonna stop loving him, or something.” He rubbed at his eyes. “Anything you guys can tell him to convince him otherwise would be great.”

 

Dean smiled and nodded understandingly. “So how’s the name search coming?” he asked, looking up when Sam walked into the kitchen, waving over at Michael.

 

“Nothing on the middle name,” Michael answered, watching Sam. “Down to two on the first. It’s hard, huh?”

 

“Naming them?” Dean asked, glancing back at Sam. “Nah, I didn’t think so. How long’d it take, Sam? A minute?”

 

Sam shrugged, picking up the mail off the table. “Probably less.”

 

“You guys just aren’t very good at it,” Dean smiled, patting Michael’s shoulder.

 

“Yeah well,” Michael said, looking around, “that’s probably true. Anyway, I gotta go. The first one she actually wants me in there for, if I miss it…anyway, there probably wouldn’t be anymore kids, if you get my drift.”

 

“You really gotta show me the jar she keeps your balls in sometime,” Dean grinned, opening the door again.

 

Michael rolled his eyes and stepped out of the kitchen, turning around again before he opened the door out of the porch. “I’ll call ya. It could be late.”

 

Dean shrugged. “Third one…she sneezes too hard the kid’ll probably come flying out. No worries. We’ll get your kids down there as quick as we can.”

 

“See ya, Sam!” Michael called, opening the door, stepping outside.

 

Sam waved absently, picking up Dylan’s half-empty glass, walking it over to the sink. “She better have that baby before those three go to bed, there’s no way in hell I’m looking forward to waking up Alby.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes and closed the kitchen door, walking over to Sam. “Somebody’s getting a little pissy,” he said quietly, wrapping his arms around Sam’s shoulders. “Need some Midol or something?”

 

“Ha ha,” Sam muttered sarcastically, rinsing Dylan’s glass off. “I just don’t wanna be the one to tell that little boy he’s not the baby anymore. Kid’s got a complex.”

 

“I don’t even think Cillian’s gonna notice another one,” Dean smiled, unwrapping himself from Sam. “That family…I mean, I love ‘em to death, but they ain’t raising those kids right.”

 

Sam turned around and leaned against the counter, scratching at his cheek. “Maybe it’ll get better.”

 

“Or maybe Paula will ignore Cillian even more,” Dean said. He sighed and leaned back, hoping that neither Cillian or Albany were close enough to hear them. “And now they’re having a girl, something Paula’s always wanted.”

 

Sam sighed and walked by Dean, going to the refrigerator. “Will you go ask them if they’re hungry or thirsty?”

 

Dean nodded and walked out of the kitchen and into the living room, glancing around for the remote before turning down the hallway, toes digging into the carpet as he walked. He knocked lightly on the door, before pushing it open. “How you kids doing?”

 

“Fine, Dad,” Dylan said, looking up from Gus’s cage.

 

“What about you two?” Dean asked, looking over at Cillian and Albany. “Sam was wondering if you wanted anything to eat, or maybe to drink.”

 

“Can I have a juice?” Albany asked, walking over to him.

 

“Of course,” Dean nodded, grasping onto Albany’s hand. “Cillian?”

 

Cillian shook his head and sat down on the bed when Dylan walked over with Gus in his hands.

 

“Okay,” Dean said slowly, turning around, leading Albany down the hallway. “Okay Albany, we’ve got orange and apple and grape. What do you want?”

 

“I don’t know,” Albany said, looking up at Dean. “Can I have a big glass?”

 

“What’s big?” Dean asked, swooping down to lift Albany up into his arms, letting Albany wrap his tiny hands around a couple of his fingers. 

 

“I’ll show ya,” Albany said, looking over at Sam. “Hi, Sam!” he exclaimed, waving eagerly.

 

Sam grinned and waved back. “Hi, Albany! You here for the juice or something to eat?”

 

“Juice,” Albany said.

 

“In a big glass,” Dean finished. He walked over to the cabinets, opening one of them. “Okay Albany, what’s big? Which glass you want?” He shifted Albany, lifting him up a little bit more.

 

“That one!” Albany answered, pointing to one of the glasses.

 

“Okay, get it Alby,” Dean said.

 

Albany reached out and grabbed onto the glass, setting it down on the counter. 

 

Dean turned around and walked over to the refrigerator, opening it. “Make up your mind yet?”

 

“Grape,” Albany said softly.

 

Dean reached in and grabbed the grape juice, walking back over to the counter. “Sam, if you will.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes but poured the juice for Albany anyway, taking a sip of the juice before carefully handing the glass over to him. “Is it too much?”

 

Albany brought the glass up and took a drink, shaking his head. “No, it’s okay.”

 

“Not too heavy?” Sam asked.

 

Albany shook his head again “I’m okay.” He looked at Dean. “Do you want a drink?” he asked, holding the glass up to Dean’s mouth.

 

Dean grinned and took a drink, swallowing it down. “Mm, yummy. Sam, why don’t you pour a glass for Cillian too? Alby, what type of juice does your brother like?”

 

“Apple,” Albany replied, before taking another drink.

 

Sam grabbed a glass and went back to the refrigerator, taking out the apple juice. He quickly poured the glass and put the apple juice back, nodding once at Dean, who turned around and started walking back towards the hallway.

 

“You think Dylan wanted something?” Dean asked, glancing back at Sam.

 

Sam shook his head. “Didn’t finish his last juice, I’m not giving him another one right now.”

 

Dean walked into Dylan’s room, leaning down to let Albany out of his arms and Sam walked past them, handing Cillian his apple juice. “You spill something, come and get us, okay?” Dean said, looking over at Dylan.

 

Dylan nodded, glancing over at Albany and Cillian.

 

“We’ll just be in the living room or something,” Dean said, turning around, walking back out of the bedroom. 

 

“Bring the glasses up when you come out, please,” Sam said, following behind Dean. “What do you wanna do to keep them busy?”

 

Dean shrugged. “I think that Dylan can probably handle them. At least Cillian. Alby will come find us if he gets too bored. What do you wanna do to keep us busy?”

 

Sam smiled and laughed. “Mr thirty-seven thinks he can go again so soon?”

 

Dean snorted. “So soon? I might not be in my twenties anymore--”

 

“Definitely not,” Sam interrupted, smirking.

 

Dean glared at him. “But I think that I can go twice in a day. It’s been a few hours.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head, flopping down on the couch. “I know, Dean, I was just joking.”

 

Dean grinned and licked his lips, sitting down on the couch before crawling between Sam’s legs, hands on either side of Sam’s head, studying Sam closely. “You ain’t so young yourself, sweetie.”

 

Sam threw his head back and laughed, trying to shove Dean off of him. “No, I guess I ain’t. Thirty-four in a few months.”

 

“Thirty-eight in twenty-three days,” Dean said quietly. “I win.”

 

Sam laughed again and finally shoved Dean off of him. He rolled onto his side before pushing himself up, shoving his hand up the pillow to grab the remote. 

 

“Hey, gimme that,” Dean said, reaching over to try and grab the remote but Sam just jerked on the couch, turning away from him. 

 

“I wanna pick what we watch for once,” Sam explained. “There’s gotta be something on I like.”

 

Dean sighed and leaned back, stretching out. “You wanna go get the kids? Maybe we can take ‘em to a movie or something. Or at least rent one.” Sam made a small noise, and when Dean looked over at him, he had a dreamy smile on his face. “Uh…Sam?”

 

“The kids,” Sam repeated. “As in, more than Dylan. I like the sound of it, is all.”

 

Dean sighed again, shaking his head. “Yeah well, you didn’t answer my question. Come on man, road trip.”

 

“To the video store?” Sam asked, pushing himself up. “And if they say no, I’m getting the remote back. Don’t even think about it.”

 

Dean nodded until Sam was down the hallway and he grabbed the remote, finding something he wanted to watch before dropping the remote down his shirt, smiling to himself.

 

* * * *

 

Dean shifted on the couch and then Albany shifted on his lap, sighing. “You okay, Alby?” Dean asked softly, resting his hand on Albany’s stomach.

 

Albany nodded, not looking away from the television. “Is Mommy having the baby right now?”

 

“Yeah,” Dean breathed, looking over at Dylan and Cillian. He kissed Albany’s temple, shifting again.

 

Dylan rolled around on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. “Mom?” he asked, lifting his head.

 

“Yeah Dyl?” Sam asked, still watching the television for a few seconds more before looking over at Dylan. “What’s up?”

 

“I’m bored,” Dylan said, rolling onto his stomach. “Can we go do something else?”

 

“What do you wanna do?” Sam asked, moving from his spot to be closer to Dylan.

 

“I don’t know,” Dylan said, sitting up. He leaned against Sam, closing his eyes, taking a deep breath. “I’m just bored.”

 

Sam wrapped an arm around Dylan’s shoulders and kissed the top of his head. “Let’s go outside, get some fresh air.”

 

Dylan nodded and pushed himself up, walking out of the living room.

 

Sam nodded at Dean and pushed himself up, following behind Dylan, both grabbing their sneakers. “Grab the football, I guess,” Sam said, stepping outside.

 

Dylan reached back and grabbed his football, closing the door behind them. He looked up at the grey sky, tossing the football up. “I didn’t know you knew how to play.”

 

“I don’t really,” Sam admitted. “I played soccer. Or…I wanted to.” 

 

Dylan slipped a little on the wet grass as they walked into the backyard, stopping as Sam walked over to the other side. He brought his arm back and threw the ball, it coming a lot easier to him than it did when he first started.

 

Sam caught the ball and gripped it, looking down to make sure his fingers were on the laces before he threw it back, glad that Dylan could catch it.

 

“Are there football teams around here?” Dylan asked, throwing it again. 

 

Sam caught the ball and checked his fingers again, before bringing his arm back. “I’m sure,” he said, throwing the ball.

 

“Will I be allowed to play?” Dylan asked, throwing the ball.

 

Sam took a step and grabbed the ball, studying it for a moment, thinking. “Ye-- yeah. In high school or something. If you can keep your grades up.” He threw the ball, watching Dylan catch it.

 

“Why weren’t you allowed to play soccer?” Dylan asked, tossing the ball up once.

 

“Bow-hunting,” Sam answered automatically. “I mean…it’s a good skill. For hunting.”

 

“How could Grampie make you do all of that stuff if you weren’t really his?” Dylan asked, throwing the football. “I mean…Dad I get, he’s Dad’s father. But couldn’t you have just told him no?”

 

“Uh…well, I respected him, Dylan,” Sam asked, placing his fingers on the laces. “And he took me in after my mom died and my dad left.” He thought for a moment, double-checking the story in his mind, nodding once. “And he was the only parent I could remember.”

 

“So you and Dad were like brothers, right?” Dylan asked, picking the ball up from the ground. “Isn’t that…I mean, it’s not like you were actual brothers, but didn’t Grampie get kind of weirded out?”

 

“Uh, maybe a little,” Sam answered, reaching up to rub at his neck. “But I think he’s seen weirder things.”

 

Dylan smiled understandingly, nodding. “Mom…what do you think about Paula?”

 

“What do you mean?” Sam asked, frowning a little.

 

Dylan threw the football and shifted on the grass. “Well uh…I mean as a mom. Sort of. She seems a lot different than you at it.”

 

Sam shrugged, even though he could guess what Dylan was getting at. “Well I don’t think she ever really wanted kids, Dylan,” he explained. “But of course…neither did your father, so…”

 

“But he wanted me, right?” Dylan asked. “Both of you did.”

 

“After awhile, yeah,” Sam nodded. “We both had our moments of freaking out. Guys don’t get pregnant very often, Dylan.”

 

Dylan grinned. “I think I know why Paula has three kids,” he said, grin disappearing.

 

“Oh yeah?” Sam asked. “Why?”

 

“So she could have a girl,” Dylan answered quietly. “What do you think?”

 

Sam sighed and looked down at the ground, before nodding slowly. “Yeah, that’s-- that’s probably true.”

 

“I don’t think Michael likes her very much,” Dylan continued. “I think he thinks she’s mean to them. I think she’s mean to him too.”

 

Sam nodded again. “She’s just-- you don’t talk about this with Cillian or Albany, do you?”

 

Dylan shook his head. “Alby, no. Cillian brought it up once, when he found out she having this one. I don’t think he likes her very much.”

 

Sam looked up at the house, thinking that Dylan was probably right. He threw the ball back to him, smiling sadly over at him.

 

* * * *

 

Sam sighed, kissing the top of Dylan’s hair, running his fingers up and down Dylan’s arm.

 

Dylan stirred in his sleep, head falling a little more forward, but he stayed asleep.

 

Sam looked over at Dean, who had Albany on his lap, Cillian asleep at his side. He smiled tiredly and yawned, rubbing at his eyes.

 

“How long could this take?” Dean murmured. “Good lord, these two came out in a couple of hours.”

 

“Why did he call us if she wasn’t even out yet?” Sam asked quietly, looking down when Dylan began muttering in his sleep. “Shh,” he said softly, brushing Dylan’s hair with his fingertips. “It’s okay.”

 

Dean smiled, watching Sam with Dylan and looked down at Albany and Cillian. “We’re such a cute family.”

 

Sam let out a short bark of laughter, before he began to giggle, realizing he was just the loudest sound in the waiting room for the past hour.

 

Dean laughed softly, head lolling to the side. “What’d you guys do outside today, anyway?”

 

“Football,” Sam answered, finally calming down. “Talked about…Paula. And Dad.” He shook his head, looking down at Dylan. “It’s hard to pretend I don’t have any parents.”

 

Dean nodded sympathetically. “Sorry you got the bum end of that deal.”

 

Sam shrugged. “It’s okay. The story we came up with isn’t so bad.” He glanced down at his watch, rolling his eyes. “Fifteen minutes and I’m taking them back home. He shouldn’t have called if it was going to be this long.”

 

“I hear that,” Dean muttered. He looked up when he heard somebody behind him.

 

“Hey, you guys,” Michael said softly, walking over to them.

 

“Yo,” Dean said, looking forward at Sam. “Well?”

 

Michael sat down beside Dean, smiling at Cillian and Albany. “They’ve got their little sister.”

 

“Thank god,” Dean said, shifting. “Can we go back to bed now?”

 

“Dean!” Sam exclaimed. “Dude, what the hell?”

 

“Sorry,” Dean mumbled. He cleared his throat and looked over at Michael. “Does she want to see them yet, or no?”

 

Michael shook his head, eyes on his lap. “No. Not yet.”

 

“Well when?” Dean demanded. “Should we take them home and bring them back in the morning?”

 

Sam swallowed hard and shifted awkwardly, wishing that maybe somewhere along the line, Dean had learned not to speak his mind.

 

“Well, she sort of kicked me out,” Michael admitted, “so you three can go and leave Alby and Cill with me. Come back whenever. If you want.”

 

Dean sighed and looked over at Sam, who was watching him right back. “I guess that…”

 

“We can stay,” Sam finished. “I guess.”

 

“Yeah,” Dean nodded once, looking over at Michael. He bit his lip, looking down and Albany and Cillian, before his mouth opened. “When are you leaving her?”

 

Sam’s jaw dropped and he looked at Dean in disbelief, hoping to hell he had fallen asleep and Dean did not just ask Michael that.

 

Michael rubbed at his eyes and shook his head. “I don’t think that very many dads get custody of the kids.”

 

Dean dropped his eyes, ashamed he had asked, and lifted Albany off of his lap, letting him lie down beside Cillian. He turned in his seat and pulled Michael in for a hug. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, patting Michael’s back. “I shouldn’t’ve said that.”

 

Sam looked down at Dylan, leaning down to kiss his son’s cheek. “I love you,” he whispered, pulling back to start running his fingers through Dylan’s hair again.

 

* * * *

 

“Paula, honey, you ready to see them yet?” Michael asked through the half-open door. “Everybody’s out here.”

 

Paula blew her hair out of her eyes, nodding. “Yeah, of course.”

 

Michael turned to face Sam and Dean, swallowing hard before pushing the door open the rest of the way, pressing his finger to Albany’s mouth as he walked in. “Gotta be quiet, Alby.” 

 

Sam kept his hand on Dylan’s shoulder, and Dean made sure that Cillian was at his side as they walked into the room.

 

Paula smiled at them all, shifting the tiny baby in her arms. “Hi,” she said, waving at Albany and Cillian. “How are my little boys?”

 

Dean rolled his eyes in disbelief but nudged Cillian’s shoulder gently, getting him to walk over to his mother.

 

“What is it?” Albany asked Michael, pointing towards the bundle in Paula’s arms.

 

“That’s your little sister,” Michael said gently, walking Albany over to the bed.

 

“Wow,” Albany said in awe, nodding slowly. “That’s the baby?”

 

“That’s the baby,” Michael echoed. 

 

Dean looked up at Sam, who was watching Paula. “So uh…what’s her name?”

 

“Lorelai,” Paula replied proudly.

 

Michael sighed and shook his head slowly, rubbing his face. 

 

“What?” Paula snapped.

 

“I didn’t know that we had agreed on a name, is all,” Michael explained.

 

“Lorelai was my grandmother’s name, Michael,” Paula said, “and I told you that you could choose her middle name if you wanted. So? You got anything?”

 

Michael looked over at Sam and Dean helplessly before he began to smile weakly. “Lorelai Samantha.”

 

“Oh crap,” Sam muttered under his breath, trying to smile.

 

Michael turned to Paula. “How’s that?”

 

Paula sighed and looked down at Lorelai. “It’s fine, I suppose. Nobody ever uses their middle name anyway.”

 

Dylan dropped his jaw in disbelief, finding it hard to believe that anybody could be that rude.

 

Dean looked up at Sam, who was just shaking his head. “Well, it does have a nice ring to it.”

 

Michael walked over to Sam, smiling up at him. “It’s okay…isn’t it?”

 

“Uh…” Sam looked over at Dean, “I guess? I mean, Samantha’s not actually my name and it’s not like I own it or anything, and--”

 

“Is it okay?” Michael asked quietly, looking up at Sam hopefully.

 

Sam bit his lip, knowing how much it meant for Michael to have a say in this. Finally, he nodded. “If you want.”

 

Michael grinned and reached up, patting Sam’s shoulder. “Thank you.” He turned and crouched down a little, smiling at Dylan. “You wanna go see the baby, Dylan?”

 

“Uh…”Dylan looked up at Sam, before shifting to see past Michael to look at Paula. “O-- okay, I guess.” He let of Sam’s hand and followed Michael over to the bed, glancing back at his parents. 

 

Michael sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at Paula, smiling gently before reaching out, taking Lorelai from her. He shifted and leaned down, letting Dylan get a better look.

 

“She’s tiny,” Dylan observed quietly, looking up when Cillian came to stand beside him. 

 

“And pink,” Cillian finished. “Lots of pink. Even her blanket is pink.”

 

“Yes well, your mother does love pink,” Michael murmured, leaning forward to kiss Cillian’s forehead. “Just be nice, okay?”

 

Cillian nodded and turned around, reaching out for Albany. “Come here, Alby.”

 

Dylan stepped out of the way and let Albany take his place near the baby, walking slowly back over to his parents. “I’m tired,” he said quietly, “can we go now?”

 

Dean nodded quickly. “Uh you guys…Dylan’s tired, I think we’re going to head out.”

 

“Thanks for coming,” Michael smiled, looking up from his kids.

 

Sam nodded and turned around, leading Dean and Dylan out of the room. When Dylan began to walk ahead, Sam looked over at Dean. “Hey, you okay?”

 

Dean nodded jerkily, staring straight ahead. “Yeah,” he said softly, so softly that Sam barely heard it.

 

“You sick?” Sam asked, moving closer to him.

 

Dean shook his head. “Not really.” He looked over at Sam, eyes full of sadness.

 

Sam was a bit taken aback and he reached out, grasping onto Dean’s hand. “Whatever it is…it’ll be okay.”

 

“Promise?” Dean asked, looking away again.

 

Sam nodded. “Promise.”

 

* * * *

 

Sam looked down at Dean, propped up on his elbow, reaching down to run his fingers over Dean’s bare chest. He shifted on his side, studying Dean. “What is it?”

 

Dean shook his head and tried to roll over but Sam pressed his hand firmly to Dean’s chest.

 

“What is it?” Sam asked again, firmer this time. 

 

Dean sighed and looked away from Sam. “They shouldn’t’ve named their kid after you.”

 

Sam smiled and leaned down, kissing the tip of Dean’s nose. “It’s sort of cute.”

 

Dean shook his head. “It’s not, it’s-- it’s stupid. He did it just to piss her off. And now there’s a little girl, named after you, when our own kid was named after a singer.”

 

“You wanna change Dylan’s name?” Sam asked, frowning.

 

Dean rolled his eyes and sat up, propped up by the pillows against the headboard. “No. Dylan-- Dylan’s who he is. I just…feel bad. That he’s not named after one of us.”

 

“He’s named after Dad,” Sam pointed out.

 

Dean nodded. “It doesn’t make you feel weird that they named their daughter after you?”

 

Sam shrugged. “It is a little…weird, especially since he only did it because he knew Paula didn’t like it, but I don’t think that Dylan cares. You think he cares?”

 

Dean shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. I guess I’m just tired. Cranky. I’ll feel better in the morning.”

 

“Kay,” Sam said, leaning down to give Dean a kiss. “Get some sleep then.” He reached over and turned off their lamp, lying back down, Dean's arm around him, his head on Dean’s chest. “Love you.”

 

“Yeah,” Dean breathed, shifting in the darkness. “Love you too.”

 

* * * *

 

Dean jumped out of the car as soon as it was stopped and he ran up the steps. 

 

Sam climbed out the car, watching Dean kick the steps before stomping up them. He began following after him, Dylan at his side, quiet.

 

Dean stormed into the house, slamming the door behind him. Luckily, Sam caught it before it smacked Dylan. 

 

“Is Dad okay?” Dylan asked, looking up at Sam.

 

Sam nodded, ruffling Dylan’s hair. “Don’t worry about it, he’s just a little tired, I guess.”

 

“Is it about Lorelai?” Dylan asked, toeing his sneakers off. “Is he mad that we went to visit them?”

 

Sam shrugged, frowning. “I…I don’t know, Dylan. I don’t. But why don’t you go down to your room and just…just wait okay? Let me figure out what’s going on with him.” He reached out, ruffling Dylan’s hair.

 

“Kay,” Dylan agreed, before running through the living room and down the hall to his bedroom.

 

Sam took a deep breath and kicked off his sneakers, walking through the kitchen. He turned the corner and pushed open his bedroom door, watching Dean. “Dean, what the hell is going on?”

 

“Nothing,” Dean snapped before slamming the closet door. “Leave me alone.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes and leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. “You don’t actually think that’s going to work, do you? I live here, I sleep in this very bedroom. You want me to leave you alone, go hang out in the kitchen or something.”

 

“Lorelai, what a stupid name,” Dean muttered, walking over to the bed, dropping down on it. 

 

Sam pushed himself off the wall and walked over to the bed, sitting down on the edge. “Still better than Albany.”

 

“They choose the stupidest names,” Dean muttered, rolling over onto his stomach. “People who name their kids such stupid names shouldn’t be allowed to breathe, let alone procreate.”

 

“I like Cillian, it’s kind of cute,” Sam said softly, before swallowing hard at Dean’s glare. “I got Dylan in his room. Didn’t want you to like, beat him or something.”

 

Dean snorted and looked away. “I wouldn’t do that.”

 

“So you wanna tell me what this is about?” Sam asked, reaching out to play with the ends of Dean’s hair. “‘Cause I know it’s not about Michael and Paula’s naming choices.”

 

“Their kids,” Dean said simply, as if that explained it all.

 

“Yep,” Sam nodded, laying down on his stomach beside Dean. “We gonna make fun of their middle names too?”’

 

“Sam, Paula hates her children,” Dean snapped. “Okay? She hates them. You know it, I know it. Dylan knows it. Even Cillian knows his mother doesn’t want him. Here we are, you would kill for three kids, but we have to stand back and watch her treat her family like crap instead.” 

 

“Dean, I know that it sucks,” Sam began, wincing when Dean practically exploded.

 

“It does more than suck!” Dean exclaimed. “You would give anything to have another baby, but she has three and she doesn’t even want them. It isn’t fair.”

 

Sam shook his head. “It’s not fair. But it’s also not about us. Albany and Cillian have a mom who doesn’t like them. That’s what’s unfair. You can’t make this about us.”

 

“She treats her children like crap,” Dean said softly. “Having Cillian and Alby with us is-- is amazing, Sam, I love it. They’re such great children. Sometimes…I want Dylan to have a little brother like them.” He looked at Sam sadly. “I love watching him with them. I love taking care of all of them. Paula hates to take care of her kids, I hate watching Paula with them. She doesn’t love them.” Dean took a deep breath, eyes filling with tears. “She doesn’t love Michael. Michael’s scared to divorce her. I hate him for it.”

 

“He-- he’s scared that she’ll get the kids,” Sam pointed out. “That would be the worst thing for them.”

 

“And then they had to go and name one of their kids, another kid that she won’t love, after you!” Dean shook his head. “If anybody is to be named after us, it should be one of our kids. I just…why doesn’t she love them, Sam?”

 

“Why don’t we have another kid?” Sam asked, shifting to look at Dean better.

 

Dean shrugged. “Just didn’t work out that way. Would you’ve preferred to have carried twins?”

 

Sam made an uncomfortable face and shifted on his stomach again. “No, but Dean, that’s not my point. It really just didn’t work out that way. And it just…worked out that she doesn’t love hers. It’s awful, and every time I see Alby…he’s still too young to realize it.”

 

“Sam--” Dean began, but Sam just continued on.

 

“But I’ve finally made a decision about our family,” Sam said, smiling.

 

Dean smiled weakly. “Oh yeah, you have? What is it now? Adoption? Surrogacy?”

 

“I’ve decided that as much I would love to raise another child, I don’t think I could do it again,” Sam replied. “I just…what if I ended up like her? What if I didn’t love him anymore?” He rubbed at his eyes. “I would rather love Dylan with everything I’ve got, then have another baby and treat them like Paula treats hers.” Sam stood up slowly and walked over to the closet, pulling something out. “Here,” he said quietly, tossing the book onto the bed. “It’s what I’ve been looking for.”

 

Dean looked over at the book, smiling weakly. “Dylan’s baby book.”

 

Sam nodded and sat down on the bed. “I’ve been looking at it. Remembering everything…holding him, when he couldn’t talk, feeding him…after every time I’m with Paula, I come and look at it. Wonder how she doesn’t like her kids.”

 

Dean reached over and grabbed the book, sitting up to look at it.

 

“I know that we’ll never have another child, Dean. But for once…I’m sort of happy about it.” Sam smiled weakly. “You must be pretty happy, huh? Finally I’m gonna shut up about it.”

 

Dean smiled. “I guess that is a benefit. I just…I wish we could convince Mike to leave her.”

 

Sam leaned in and gave Dean a slow kiss. “Me too. But helping to take care of those kids…that’s what we’ll do.” 

 

Dean nodded eagerly. “I’m sorry I can’t give you another baby, Sam.”

 

Sam smiled sadly and kissed Dean again. “So am I.” He tilted his head, nipping at Dean’s bottom lip, before pulling back, a grin on his face. He stood up and walked over to the bedroom door. “I…I’m sorry you got so upset today. I’m sorry we had to go visit them.”

 

Dean shrugged and stood up, following Sam out of the bedroom. “I just…I love my family, you know? And to see somebody who doesn’t is hard.”

 

Sam nodded understandingly and stuck his head down the hallway. “Dylan? Come on, we’re going out for supper!” He turned and looked over at Dean. “I think that maybe having Cillian and Albany over more often will be good for them.”

 

Dean looked over at Dylan, smiling weakly. “Hey, kiddo. Sorry a-- about the door thing.”

 

Dylan nodded. “Um…why were you mad?”

 

“Paula,” Dean and Sam replied at the same time.

 

“Oh,” Dylan said simply. “Uh…yeah, I can understand that.” He reached out and grasped onto Dean’s hand, smiling up at him. “It’s okay.”

 

Dean smiled down at him. “Yeah, thanks, Dyl.”

 

“I think that Cillian has sort of gotten used to the fact that his dad’s the only one who likes him,” Dylan said softly.

 

“A kid shouldn’t have to get used to that though,” Dean pointed out, “and that’s what pisses me off.”

 

Dylan nodded. “But um…I just sort of wanted to let you guys know…” he cleared his throat, "you guys aren’t anything like Paula.”

 

Dean smiled and Sam let out a huge sigh of relief.

 

Dylan glanced into the master bedroom as they walked by, frowning. “What’s that book on your bed?”

 

“It’s your baby book,” Sam said, walking over to grab his sneakers.

 

Dylan groaned and rolled his eyes. “Okay, you guys can love me and stuff, but I don’t really like the idea of you guys in there, reminiscing about me and stuff. It’s kind of weird.”

 

Sam began to laugh and Dean reached out, ruffling Dylan’s hair.


	18. Chapter 18

Title: Look What Love Has Done - Volume 3 - Chapter 18

Pairing: Sam/Dean

Disclaimer: Not mine

Rating: R this chapter

Summary: Dylan goes to spend the night at Danny's.

Author's Note: Forget volume one, forget volume two; this is volume three 

 

ten years, eleven months and four days old

 

Dylan looked from his homework and rolled his eyes, sticking his pencil in his mouth. “Can’t you guys take it somewhere else?” he asked finally.

 

Sam pulled away from Dean in shock, before he began laughing loudly. “Good lord, Dylan, you aren’t used to it yet?”

 

Dylan stared at his parents in disbelief before going back to his essay. “Why do they make me write in cursive now?”

 

Sam leaned over Dylan’s shoulder, studying the paper. “Because they’re evil,” he smiled, kissing the top of Dylan’s head. “Your hair’s getting too long,” he said, pulling back.

 

“I’m not cutting it,” Dylan mumbled, before looking up at Dean. “Why can’t I just type it?”

 

“They’re evil,” Dean said, opening the refrigerator, “duh. Weren’t you just listening?”

 

“Need to practice penmanship, Dylan,” Sam said, reaching into the refrigerator to grab an orange. “You can’t type everything.”

 

“When can I go over to Danny’s?” Dylan whined, staring at his paper.

 

“When you finish the rough draft,” Sam replied, sitting down across from Dylan. “So…what is this essay on again?”

 

“The commandments,” Dean answered, grabbing a can of beer.

 

“The amendments,” Dylan corrected slowly, watching his father. “Which one we think is the most important and why. Then which one we would get rid of if we could.”

 

“And?” Sam prompted.

 

Dylan shrugged. “It’s hard. I don’t want to say one’s important and have it not be and have the teacher think I’m an idiot.”

 

“For someone to think you were an idiot Dylan,” Sam began, looking back at Dean, “you would have to write about the commandments.”

 

“Hey!” Dean exclaimed, pulling out his chair, reaching over to grab one of Dylan’s textbooks. “Get rid of ‘rights of the accused’. They don’t need any.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Dean, I would think the number of times you have accused, you’d have more respect for that one.”

 

Dean snorted. “Yeah, right.”

 

“Anyway,” Dylan said, “I’m thinking about getting rid of the sixteenth amendment.”

 

Dean nodded once before glancing down at the text book, finding the sixteenth amendment. “Haha, awesome, Dylan.” He set his beer down, raising his hand. “High five!” He grinned and took a sip of his beer. “I tell ya Sam, this kid’s smarter than we give him credit for.”

 

Sam reached over and grabbed the textbook, finding the sixteenth. “You wanna get rid of federal income taxes?”

 

Dylan grinned and nodded, clutching his pencil in one hand. “Well, yeah. Why should we pay money if we don’t have to?”

 

Sam narrowed his eyes and looked over at Dean. “Dean,” he said warningly.

 

“Yes?” Dean asked innocently, turning to Sam.

 

“What have I told you about telling Dylan about how we used to pay for things?” Sam asked.

 

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know. I wasn’t paying attention. I mean, come on, Sam. No taxes. That would be awesome.”

 

“So which one is the most important?” Sam asked, examining the list in front of him. “These all seem important to me.”

 

Dylan shrugged. “It’s too hard. I hate writing stuff like this.” He erased a couple words of his paper, blowing on it. “Can I just go over to Danny’s now?”

 

Dean shook his head, reaching out to tap Dylan’s paper. “Todd knows you might not be coming over till late. Finish the rough draft, then you go. Okay?”

 

Dylan sighed. “Fine,” he muttered, going back to his paper.

 

Sam looked at Dylan, long fingers still peeling his orange. He sighed and handed Dylan a slice of it, smiling weakly at him. 

 

Dylan smiled and took the orange, putting it in his mouth before he began writing again.

 

“Come on, Dean,” Sam said softly, standing up, nudging Dean’s shoulder. “He’s gotta get this done.”

 

Dean nodded and reached out, patting Dylan’s shoulder as he stood up. He followed Sam into the living room, taking a drink as he sat down on the couch.

 

Sam sat down before bringing his longs legs up and lying down, head pillowed by Dean’s thigh. He ate a piece of orange, nodding to himself. He cleared his throat before swallowing it down, looking up at Dean, who was sipping from his beer. “He’s never gonna finish that paper, is he?”

 

Dean shrugged, smiling. “He might. If he’s not done in an hour, we’ll let him go.”

 

Sam nodded and shifted on the couch, holding a slice of orange up to Dean, who ate it out of his fingers eagerly. Sam laughed softly and shifted again, peeling apart another slice. “Love you,” he said quietly.

 

Dean leaned down and kissed Sam’s forehead, grinning against his skin. “Love you too.”

 

* * * *

 

“So you have your PJs?” Sam asked, handing Dylan his backpack.

 

“Mom, Danny lives right across the street,” Dylan pointed out, taking his backpack. “Even if I didn’t, I could come back and get them.”

 

“Yeah, Sammy,” Dean smirked, reaching out to shove Sam playfully.

 

“You’re gonna proofread my essay, right?” Dylan asked hopefully, slipping his feet into his sneakers.

 

“Uh…” Dean looked over at Sam expectantly, “yeah. One of us will. It’ll be proofread by the time you get back. Promise.”

 

“Okay,” Dylan grinned, reaching up to give Dean a hug. “Thanks.” He turned and hugged Sam before turning around, opening the door. “Don’t worry, I’ll be safe,” he said, before Sam could. “Love you!” he called, running down the steps.

 

“See ya!” Dean called, waving. He stuck his head out, making sure Dylan made it across the street safe before stepping back inside, closing the door behind him. “Alrighty Sammy, you proofread the essay, I’m gonna go have a shower.” He grinned and patted Sam’s shoulder.

 

“Dean, come on!” Sam protested. 

 

“You already had a shower,” Dean pointed out. “And I was at work…” he stepped towards Sam, smirking up at him, tongue coming out to wet his lips, “all day,” he finished slowly, meeting Sam’s eyes. “And it was hard, Sammy.”

 

Sam smiled and ducked his head, trying not to blush. “Thirty-nine and you’re still so goddamn horny.”

 

Dean laughed and reached out, grasping onto the collar of Sam’s shirt, pulling him in, breathing heavily. “Thirty-four and you still blush like a freaking girl.” He tilted his head up and brushed his lips against Sam’s, tongue coming out again to wet his lips, moving against Sam’s in the process. He pulled back, smiling weakly, looking up at Sam.

 

“What?” Sam asked, frowning.

 

Dean blindly reached back and opened the bathroom door, pulling Sam in. “Uh, well Sammy…I’m getting kind of old.”

 

Sam laughed and closed the door behind him. “First time you’ve ever admitted it.”

 

“And I think I’ve sort of forgotten how to do this,” Dean finished, leaning up to kiss Sam gently. “Wanna teach me?” he asked teasingly.

 

“Uh…” Sam swallowed hard before nodding eagerly, pulling back to begin working at his shirt. “Okay.”

 

Dean pulled off his t-shirt and watched Sam undress as he undid his belt, pulling it out of the loops before undoing his jeans, pushing them down. He raised an eyebrow and stepped out of them, looking at Sam expectantly.

 

Sam stopped what he was doing and stared at Dean. “You haven’t…” he thought for a moment, “how long haven’t you been wearing underwear?”

 

Dean shrugged and stepped back, leaning against the laundry machine. “All day.”

 

Sam stared at Dean for a moment longer before furiously working at his jeans, quickly shoving them down, almost tripping when he stepped out of them. He pushed his boxers down, stumbling over to Dean. He worked one hand in Dean’s hair and the other cupping his neck, pulling him for a forceful kiss, hands moving, one over his shoulder, the other to cup Dean’s cheek, thumb stroking the skin gently. 

 

“Oh god,” Dean breathed, tilting his head to give Sam more access to his neck. He clutched at Sam’s shoulders, fingers digging into the muscle. He cried out loudly and jerked when Sam’s hand wrapped around his dick, jerking it a couple times. He thrust his hips into Sam’s hand, breath shaking.

 

“Lube,” Sam breathed before nipping at Dean’s neck, tongue licking at the mark.

 

Dean cried out again and reached out, knocking something off the shelf behind him. He arched his back, Sam’s mouth dropping to his chest and he finally managed to grab onto the lube. “Here,” he panted, shoving the tube into Sam’s hand. 

 

“You can just borrow money,” Danny assured Dylan as they walked down Danny’s driveway. “Think of it as…an early birthday present, or something.”

 

Dylan laughed and shook his head. “I expect a real birthday present, Danny.” He glanced both ways before they both began walking across the street. “Just…just don’t tell my mom I forgot something, he’ll freak.”

 

Danny laughed and nodded. “No worries. I’ll tell him…well, I make up lies better on the spot anyway.”

 

Dylan rolled his eyes and walked up his driveway, reaching out to run his fingers along the side of the car. “Hey, can we go swimming later?”

 

Danny shrugged. “I don’t know. Might not be warm enough.”

 

“Dude,” Dylan began, glancing back at him as he jumped the steps, “your pool is heated.”

 

“I meant the air, Dylan,” Danny said, not bothering to take his sneakers off as they walked into the house.

 

Dylan frowned and looked around. “Maybe they went out for a walk or something,” he said, before shrugging. Danny began laughing and he turned, seeing Danny with his ear pressed up against the bathroom door. “Danny…whatever you’re doing, don’t.” He snapped his fingers a couple of times. “Come on, if we get in and out with them even noticing, that’d be great.”

 

Danny laughed again and pressed his ear a little harder to the door. “Dylan…I don’t know how to tell you this--”

 

“Then don’t,” Dylan interrupted.

 

“But I think your parents are having sex!” Danny finished, a huge grin on his face.

 

Dylan stared at Danny in disbelief. “Danny, I’m serious dude, come on. Stop listening, it’s weird. I don’t listen to your dad have sex.”

 

Danny grinned and began following Dylan to his bedroom. “Uh yeah, ‘cause my dad doesn’t. Aren’t your parents like, really old?”

 

Dylan shrugged as they began to walk down the hallway. “I don’t know. What’s old for sex?”

 

“Like, thirty,” Danny said solemnly.

 

Dylan rolled his eyes and flicked on his bedroom light. “Hi Gus,” he said, waving to his bunny. He walked over to his dresser and lifted a couple of things up, finding his ten dollar bill. “Don’t tell Mom and Dad we were here, okay?” he asked Gus, pointing his finger at him.

 

“Yeah, don’t let ‘em know we heard them doing it,” Danny laughed. He kept laughed as he walked back down the hallway, Dylan behind him. “I dare you to open the door.”

 

“Ew!” Dylan exclaimed. “Danny, that’s gross.”

 

“I bet you that ten bucks you got that you won’t,” Danny said, glancing over at Dylan.

 

“No deal,” Dylan said quickly, “because we both already know that I won’t. Listen, if you wanna go see my parents naked, that’s fine. But at least wait till I’m gone.” He sighed as they walked back into the kitchen, eyeing the bathroom door suspiciously. “Do you…I mean, are they really?” he asked quietly.

 

Danny shrugged. “I don’t know man. I’ve never done it. But it sure sounds like it.”

 

“How do you know it sounds like anything?” Dylan asked, looking back over at Danny.

 

“Because it’d be weird if nobody said anything,” Danny said. “I mean, a minute of complete silence? I could do that alone.”

 

“You could talk to yourself too,” Dylan pointed out, hand on the porch door. “Now, are we done? Can we go? I don’t wanna miss the movie.”

 

“We won’t miss the movie,” Danny assured him, a huge grin on his face. He walked over to the door, looking at Dylan.

 

“Danny, don’t,” Dylan whined. “Come on.”

 

Danny shook his head and moved his hand to the doorknob, grinning. 

 

“Danny,” Dylan said warningly, opening the porch door, ready to step out.

 

Danny sighed, letting go of the door knob. “Okay, fine. Sorry.” He waited until Dylan had stepped out onto the porch before quickly darting back, opening the bathroom door. “Hi, mister and mister Winchester!” he yelled before running after Dylan.

 

“Jesus!” Sam yelled, jumping and pulling out of Dean, glancing back at the open door. 

 

Danny laughed loudly as he ran outside, body shaking as he followed after Dylan.

 

“Danny!” Dylan yelled, reaching back to smack Danny’s arm. “Dude!”

 

“I didn’t see anything,” Danny assured him in between his laughs. “Come on, we don’t wanna miss the movie,” he mocked, running ahead of Dylan.

 

“Was that Danny?” Dean asked, frowning as he turned around.

 

Sam grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist, running out into the kitchen. He looked out the window, sighing when he saw Danny and Dylan walk across the street. “Yeah, it was Danny.”

 

Dean laughed to himself, walking out into the kitchen, not bothering to put anything back on.

 

Dylan glanced back towards his house and stopped walking when he realized that Sam and Dean were watching from the window.

 

“What?” Danny asked, turning around. He began laughing again when he saw Sam and Dean watching them. He grinned proudly and waved.

 

“Dude!” Dylan exclaimed, grabbing onto Danny’s arm. “Don’t wave at them!” He sighed and took a couple of steps backwards, finally raising his hand to wave at his parents.

 

Dean grinned and waved back, grabbing onto Sam’s arm. “Come on, Sammy. I wasn’t quite finished yet,” he said, pulling him back into the bathroom.

 

“Are you sure you didn’t see anything?” Dylan demanded.

 

Danny nodded as he jumped the couple steps up to his deck, knocking on his door. He opened it and stuck his head in. “Dad, we’re ready to go!” he yelled, closing it again. “Dylan, I am sure,” he said slowly. “Okay?”

 

“Okay,” Dylan muttered. “But it wasn’t very funny.”

 

“Well not for you,” Danny said, looking up when Todd walked out of the house, keys in his hand. “Hey Dad, how’s about letting me drive to the theatre?”

 

Todd didn’t even lift his head, just walked by Danny. “No, Danny. Hi, Dylan, find your money?”

 

“Uh, yes sir,” Dylan nodded, following Todd over to the car. 

 

“It’s just Todd, Dylan,” Todd reminded him. “Sir makes me feel old and frankly, I am younger than both of your parents.”

 

Dylan nodded as he climbed into the backseat of the car, Danny beside him. 

 

“So Dad,” Danny began, leaning forward in his seat.

 

“Not until you’re sixteen,” Todd said, glancing back as he began pulling out of the driveway.

 

“Man,” Danny muttered, sitting back. “How do you do that?”

 

“I’m God,” Todd said, switching out of reverse to drive. “And I told you, the sooner you learn that, the easier this whole thing is gonna go, Danny.” He pressed his foot on the gas, smiling at Dylan in the rearview mirror.

 

Danny narrowed his eyes and looked over at Dylan, leaning forward in his seat again. “Hey Dad.”

 

“Yes,” Todd said, pulling to a stop.

 

“Do people make noises during sex?” Danny finished, grinning.

 

Dylan sighed and rolled his eyes, slouching down in his seat.

 

“Uh…I don’t know, Danny,” Todd replied. “It’s been so long since I’ve gotten any and I don’t think I did it right in the first place, so…”

 

“I think Dylan’s parents were having sex when we went over there,” Danny explained. 

 

“Lucky them,” Todd murmured. 

 

“He opened the door on them,” Dylan said, also leaning forward.

 

“Oh,” Todd said. “Uh, well…give your parents my apologizes and…Danny, don’t do it again, blah blah, as if that’ll stop you and…” he thought for a moment. “Yeah, okay, that sounds good.”

 

“You’re not going to punish him?” Dylan asked in surprise.

 

“Danny, did you see anything?” Todd asked.

 

“Nope,” Danny answered, picking at his jeans.

 

“Gonna do it again?” Todd continued.

 

Danny lifted his head, eyes still squinting. “Nope,” he answered finally.

 

“Okay,” Todd nodded once. “Do it again and I make you look at old photo albums with your grandparents.”

 

Danny made a face and stuck out his tongue. 

 

“Is that bad?” Dylan asked quietly, leaning over to Danny.

 

Danny nodded. “The worst.”

 

“Let’s just say this,” Todd began, glancing back at Dylan and Danny, “they’re my parents, I am in those photos, and they still insist on explaining the story behind every single one.”

 

“Doesn’t your grandfather make you do stuff like that?” Danny asked. “I thought that all grandparents did stuff like that.”

 

Dylan shook his head earnestly. “When I’m with Grampie, we just usually speak Latin and…shoot stuff.”

 

Danny’s jaw dropped and he leaned forward again, hitting Todd’s arm. “How come your parents aren’t like that?”

 

* * * *

 

“Okay, so give me your plans for tonight,” Todd said, pushing open the door. “Movie is off the list. How was it?”

 

Dylan shrugged. “It was okay.”

 

“It was okay,” Danny echoed, kicking off his sneakers. 

 

“So now what?” Todd asked, hanging up his keys. “TV?”

 

“Dylan wants to swim,” Danny answered. “Is that okay?”

 

Todd sighed and glanced down at his watch. “You sure, Dyl? Might be a little chilly.”

 

“Um…” Dylan shifted awkwardly, “well…it was sort of just a suggestion, before the movie. We don’t have to. We can just watch some TV, right Danny?”

 

“If you wanna swim, you can swim,” Todd said. “Are you allowed to swim alone?”

 

“I’m not sure,” Dylan admitted. “I don’t think I ever have.”

 

“Well, I’ll watch you guys then,” Todd nodded. “You guys can go get changed, I’ll get the cover off.”

 

Dylan nodded and began following Danny through the house to Danny’s bedroom. He grabbed his backpack and opened it, pulling out his shorts. He walked out of Danny’s room and down the hall, flicking on the bathroom lights, pushing the door closed behind him. As he pulled off his shirt he walked over to the window, looking outside to watch Todd pull the pool cover off. He sighed and walked back towards the middle of the room, pushing down his jeans and underwear. He looked up when he heard Danny begin to sing through the walls and he rolled his eyes as he pulled on his swim trunks. He gathered his clothes and walked out of the bathroom, shifting on his feet outside Danny’s room. “Are you done yet?” he called.

 

“Yeah!” Danny called and Dylan opened the door. 

 

Dylan walked in and grabbed his backpack, shoving his clothes inside. “We don’t have to swim for too long if you don’t want.”

 

Danny nodded and reached over, handing Dylan a DVD.

 

“What’s this?” Dylan asked, examining the box. “Halloween?”

 

“My dad said it’s like older than both of your parents,” Danny grinned.

 

“You know, my dad’s only old compared to yours,” Dylan said, handing the movie back to Danny. “Are we gonna watch it?”

 

Danny nodded and walked by Dylan, flicking his bedroom lights off. “My dad said it’s scary as hell. It’s gonna be awesome.”

 

Dylan dropped his head, following Danny to the porch doors. “I’m not sure my parents want me watching horror movies.”

 

Danny rolled his eyes and opened the door, stepping outside. “You know, for two dudes, your parents seem really--”

 

“Don’t say anything,” Dylan interrupted. “They’re just protective. They grew up…kind of weirdly.”

 

“It’s just a movie, Dylan,” Danny pointed out. “The worst that’ll happen is you’ll get scared.”

 

Dylan swallowed hard and tried not to think about what he had a habit of doing when he got scared. He glanced back into the house as he pushed the porch doors closed, wondering what exactly would end up flying around the house. “O-- okay,” he said finally, turning back to see Danny dive into the pool.

 

“You don’t have to watch it,” Todd assured Dylan quietly. “He can watch it in his room, you and me can watch something else in the living room.”

 

Danny surfaced and tossed his head back, water spraying everywhere. “Are you coming in or not, Dyl?” he yelled, treading water. “You’re the one who wanted to swim anyway.”

 

Dylan walked slowly over to the steps, gripping the handrail as he walked in.

 

“See, Danny!” Todd called. “Dylan’s safe! Now you have the example.”

 

Dylan swam over to Danny, straightening out his legs to see if he could touch. 

 

“Dude, you’re making me look bad,” Danny murmured. He reached up, pushing his long hair out of his eyes.

 

Dylan grinned and ducked under the water, swimming around. He surfaced towards the edge, looking over at Danny.

 

“Have you ever done a dive?” Danny asked.

 

Dylan shook his head. “No. There aren’t a lot of diving boards in…the ocean,” he pointed out.

 

“They’re easy,” Danny assured him. He swam over to the edge and pushed himself up, shivering instantly. “Dad, can you go get us towels?”

 

Todd raised an eyebrow.

 

“Please,” Danny said flatly.

 

“Sure thing,” Todd grinned, pushing himself up out of his chair. “Did you bring one Dyl, or…”

 

Dylan shook his head. “No, sorry.”

 

“No problem,” Todd assured him, stepping back inside the house.

 

“Come on, Dylan,” Danny said, waving his hand. “I’ll show you how.”

 

“I always just belly flop,” Dylan said, but he pushed himself out of the water anyway, walking over to Danny.

 

“Arms like this,” Danny said, raising his arms.

 

Dylan rolled his eyes and shook his head, but copied Danny anyway.

 

“Shoulders by your ears, Dylan,” Danny directed. “Chin to your chest.”

 

“I feel like an idiot,” Dylan muttered.

 

Danny looked over at Dylan, studying him. “Yeah…you kind of look like one too. Okay, so start to lean forward at the waist.”

 

Dylan nodded. “Yeah.”

 

“Push off and ‘follow your fingertips into the water’,” Danny grinned. “My swim instructor told me that once.”

 

Dylan took a deep breath and pushed off, diving into the water, going straight to the bottom.

 

Danny grinned and nodded, waiting for Dylan to swim back up to the surface. “That was awesome, Dylan!” He sighed and waited, frowning. “Dylan?” he called, watching Dylan under the water, not moving. 

 

Todd grabbed a couple of towels from the closet, glancing out the window to watch Danny by the pool.

 

“Dylan!” Danny yelled, glancing back towards the house. “Dad, Dylan won’t come up! There’s something wrong!”

 

Todd dropped his towels and ran out of the bathroom, skidding as he turned, quickly opening the porch doors. “What happened?” he yelled, kicking off his sneakers.

 

“I tried to show him how to dive!” Danny exclaimed, watching his father. “I don’t know what happened.”

 

“Shit,” Todd muttered as he ran to the edge, quickly diving into the pool. The chlorine stung his eyes as he looked around furiously, grabbing onto Dylan’s arms, pulling him to the surface.

 

“Is he alive?” Danny asked quickly, dropping to his knees.

 

Todd nodded, swimming Dylan over to the edge. “Gotta help him up, Danny.”

 

Danny hooked his arms under Dylan’s and began to pull him up onto the concrete, Todd helping push him up.

 

Todd quickly pulled himself up out of the water, dropping his head down to Dylan’s mouth, listening for breath. “Danny, call 911. Now.”

 

Danny nodded and pushed himself up, running into the house.

 

Todd tilted Dylan’s head back and pinched his nose, covering Dylan’s mouth with his. “C’mon Dylan, you gotta wake up.” He covered Dylan’s mouth again, breathing into him. He stared down at Dylan, at least trying to stay calm. 

 

“I think they’re coming,” Danny said, coming back outside a few moments later. “Is he awake?”

 

Todd shook his head before covering Dylan’s mouth once more. “Come on, Dylan,” he pleaded. He pulled back and heard sputtering, helping Dylan over onto his side, watching as Dylan coughed the water out.

 

“He’s not awake though,” Danny said frantically. “Why isn’t he awake?”

 

Todd examined Dylan’s head carefully. “I think he has a concussion, Dan.” He put his ear back down to Dylan’s mouth, making sure he was breathing. “Okay, he’s breathing, his heart is pumping.” He pushed himself up. “I have to go get his parents. Watch him, Dan!”

 

Danny nodded and sat down beside Dylan, pulling his head onto his lap. “It’s okay, Dylan,” he said quietly, studying Dylan. “The ambulance is coming, it’ll be okay.”

 

Todd dashed across the street and ran up the driveway. He banged on the porch door, checking the handle. He pushed it open and knocked a couple of times on the door to the kitchen, before opening it.

 

“Todd?” Sam asked, only a couple of feet away from the door. “Why are you all we…what’s wrong?”

 

“It’s-- it’s Dylan,” Todd panted. “He hit his head.”

 

“Where?” Sam demanded.

 

“In the pool,” Todd said, watching Sam turn the corner, coming back a couple of seconds later with Dean at his side. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I went to get towels and Danny was showing him--”

 

“Is he awake?” Dean demanded.

 

Todd shook his head. “Breathing though.” 

 

“Move,” Dean said, practically shoving Todd out of the way, running outside.

 

“I’m sorry!” Todd cried as Sam grabbed onto his arm, leading him back outside. “The ambulance is coming.”

 

“It’s not your fault,” Sam assured him automatically.

 

“Dylan!” Dean yelled, running up the stairs to the porch. He ran around back, quickly unlocking the gate. “Shit, Dylan,” he said quietly, stopping in his tracks.

 

Danny looked up at Dean sadly, eyes full of tears. “He’s still breathing, he’s just-- he’s asleep.”

 

Dean walked over to Danny and Dylan, sitting down. “It’s okay, Danny, I’ve got him now.” He lifted Dylan’s head and shoulders, helping him onto his lap. “It’s okay, Dylan, Daddy’s here.” He leaned down, kissing Dylan’s forehead. “It’s okay.”

 

Sam walked over to them slowly, eyes welling up. “What happened?” he asked, looking over at Danny.

 

“He said he didn’t know how to dive,” Danny said quietly, tears finally running down his cheeks. “I was showing him. I think he hit his head on the bottom.” He looked up at Sam, trying not to sob. “I’m really sorry. I thought he could do it. He’s a really good swimmer and I thought that he…” he trailed off when Sam walked by him, dropping down beside Dean and Dylan. 

 

“Dylan,” Sam said sadly, tears spilling over. “My baby.” He leaned down, kissing Dylan’s forehead. “All you’ve gotta do is wake up. Please Dyl, just wake up.”

 

* * * *

 

Dylan rolled over in the hospital bed, snuggling up to Dean.

 

Dean sighed and kissed the top of Dylan’s head, wrapping his arm around Dylan’s shoulders. “You okay?” he asked quietly.

 

“My head still hurts,” Dylan murmured, “and I still feel like I’m gonna puke.”

 

Dean smiled and nodded understandingly. “I get that.”

 

Dylan awkwardly pushed himself up, looking around the room. “Daddy?” he murmured.

 

“Yeah?” Dean asked.

 

“Where’d Mommy go?” Dylan asked, lying back down. 

 

“Mommy went home to go get you some clothes,” Dean answered. “He’ll be back soon.” He kissed the top of Dylan’s head again. “You gave us quite a scare there, Dylan. Thank god it was only a concussion. It could’ve been worse, you know.”

 

Dylan nodded slowly. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Wasn’t your fault,” Dean murmured. 

 

“Are you mad at Danny?” Dylan asked softly.

 

“No,” Dean replied.

 

“Good,” Dylan breathed, rolling over onto his side. “I’m sorry anyway. And…and I’m really sorry that Danny opened the door when you and Mom were having sex.”

 

Dean laughed softly to himself. “Yeah, that was pretty…as long as he didn’t see anything.”

 

Dylan let out a deep breath, stretching in the bed, curling up against Dean. “Daddy?” he asked.

 

“Yeah?” Dean asked, looking down at Dylan.

 

“Do you think you and Mom can finally tell me what sex is?” Dylan asked, closing his eyes.

 

Dean grinned, kissing Dylan’s forehead. “Sure thing buddy, just remind me when we get home.”

 

* * * *

 

“Okay Dylan,” Dean said, shifting at the table. “You, are a boy. Following so far?”

 

Dylan tried not to laugh. “Uh, yeah,” he said, nodding. 

 

“Okay,” Dean nodded once. “Now you might hear some interesting language come out of my mouth Dylan, so prepare yourself. You, a boy, have a penis.”

 

“That’s…” Dylan looked down at his lap, “this, right?”

 

Sam smiled and nodded, looking away, nibbling the top of his thumb. 

 

“Girls have a vagina,” Dean continued. “Now I’m not really gonna bother you with how girls work and stuff, because frankly--”

 

“He doesn’t know,” Sam interrupted, smirking over at Dean.

 

“Exactly,” Dean agreed. “So Dylan, your penis. Okay. So…you pee out of it. But that doesn’t have much to do with sex. When there’s somebody you like, either a girl or a boy, things start to happen in your body. With your penis.”

 

“You don’t mean ‘like’ in the way I like my teachers, do you?” Dylan asked.

 

“God, I hope not,” Dean murmured. “There’ll be somebody, someday soon, that you’re attracted to. That you wanna kiss. Hold hands. And eventually…wanna have sex with. When that happens, your penis, or your dick--”

 

“Your penis,” Sam corrected.

 

“Is gonna get,” Dean took a deep breath, “hard,” he finished quietly.

 

Dylan frowned. “I don’t…like, what? Hard? Does it hurt?”

 

Dean shook his head. “Definitely not. Or it shouldn’t. And when it’s hard like that, it’s called an erection.” He patted the table once, leaning back. “Alright Sam, your turn.”

 

Sam sighed and turned to face Dylan in his seat. “Sex is when-- sex between a boy and a girl,” he corrected himself, “is when a boy puts his penis inside a girl.”

 

“In her vagina?” Dylan asked quietly.

 

“Yes,” Sam nodded. “Do you understand?”

 

Dylan thought for a moment, looking up at the ceiling. “Uh yeah, I think so. It all sounds kind of…weird.”

 

Sam smiled and nodded. “Yeah, it kind of does.”

 

Dylan sighed. “So if sex starts when he puts it in, how does he know when it’s over?”

 

“Oh, this I got,” Dean nodded. “A guy will always know when it’s over for him. You might not know when a girl’s done, but just uh…okay. When sex is over for a guy, stuff comes out of his penis.”

 

Dylan stared down at the table in front of him. “O…kay,” he said slowly, nodding to himself.

 

“Dylan, you’re good at English, right?” Sam asked suddenly.

 

Dylan nodded. “Yeah.”

 

“Short stories,” Sam nodded. “Okay. Rising action, climax, falling action. Right?”

 

Dylan nodded eagerly, happy to finally understand something. “Yeah, I know that.”

 

“Climax is sort of when sex is over,” Sam explained. “When the…” he glanced over at Dean, “semen comes out of the boy. That’s his climax.”

 

Dylan frowned and made a face at his parents. “And so…people do this?”

 

“A lot,” Dean nodded. “It’s not as appealing when it’s with words, Dylan. Science-y stuff like erection and semen and climax don’t play a lot into the actual act.”

 

“Okay,” Dylan nodded once. “How do I know when I’m ready?”

 

“Well I can tell you right now, you’re not ready yet,” Sam said quickly. “You haven’t even really started puberty yet. But um, after that, I think that you should be in love with the girl. Or-- or the boy. Or whoever, okay?”

 

Dylan nodded understandingly. “So how are babies made?”

 

Sam smiled and nodded. “Okay. Well, once a month or so, a girl’s body release an egg.” He stopped talking at the look on Dylan’s face. “Not that kind of egg, Dylan. And so, when a girl has sex when her egg is released, the semen, which has sperm in it, go and fertilize the egg.”

 

Dean nodded slowly. “Exactly it, Sam. Good job. So, I think that about covers it. Do you have any questions, or anything? I think we can answer them.”

 

“Uh…one,” Dylan admitted. “Mom’s not a girl. So…how do you…”

 

Sam swallowed hard and straightened up a little. “Oh, wow. Okay. Well, the penis still goes in. Just in…a different place.”

 

Dylan thought for a moment, before his eyes went wide. “Really? Oh. Um…I think that’s it.” He stood up quickly and walked away from the table. “I’m just gonna go…play video games.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Or something.”

 

“Yeah,” Sam breathed, leaning back in his seat. “Oh my god, that was so awkward. And bad. And awkward. We’ve damaged him, I know it. He didn’t need to know all of that. We could’ve just-- Dad didn’t even have to give us the sex talk, what the hell do we know about sex talks?” 

 

Dean nodded once. “Okay.” He thought for a moment. “I think we handled that fairly well.”

 

Sam groaned and leaned forward, resting his head on the table. “I cannot believe Danny opened the door on us.”

 

Dean laughed and stood up, patting Sam’s back. “Oh come on, Sam, don’t be ashamed. It was quite the show.”


	19. Chapter 19

Title: Look What Love Has Done - Volume 3 - Chapter 19

Pairing: Sam/Dean

Disclaimer: Not mine

Rating: NC-17 this chapter

Summary: Dean's turning forty and starts to look at himself in a different way; Dylan's been having more trouble in school than he should be.

Author's Note: Forget volume one, forget volume two; this is volume three 

 

eleven years, nine months and twelve days old

 

“You’re gonna have to get up eventually,” Sam pointed out, grabbing onto Dean’s hand, “it may as well be now.”

 

Dean groaned and threw his other arm over his eyes. “Le’ me alone,” he mumbled, trying to yank his hand out of Sam’s grip. “Do’ work.”

 

Sam sighed and climbed back onto the bed, straddling Dean’s thighs. “Dean,” he said sharply. “Wake. Up.”

 

Dean groaned again before yawning loudly, rolling over just enough to get Sam off of him. “Sammy,” he pleaded, “I don’t wanna get up today.”

 

“But it’s your birthday,” Sam said quietly, voice tiny.

 

“I know!” Dean cried. “That is why I don’t wanna get up today!” He grabbed onto the bed sheets and yanked them up as far as he could. “Leave me alone.”

 

“Me and Dylan are taking you out for supper tonight,” Sam said, shifting on the mattress.

 

Dean groaned and rolled his eyes, throwing the sheets off his head, reaching over to grab the alarm clock. “Supper isn’t for ten hours!” he yelled, shoving the clock in Sam’s face. “Come back in seven.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes and reached over, setting the alarm clock back down. “Fine,” he muttered, pushing himself up. He walked around the bed and out of the bedroom, almost bumping into Dylan.

 

“He okay?” Dylan asked, looking up at him.

 

Sam shrugged and shook his head. “Cranky.” He ruffled Dylan hair, smiling down at his bowl of cereal. “Good choice.” He walked by Dylan, going over to the refrigerator. “Okay, you studied last night, right?” he asked suddenly, glancing back at Dylan, who had settled in at the table.

 

Dylan swallowed hard and shifted guiltily. “Um--”

 

Sam sighed and grabbed the bread, bumping the door closed. “Dylan--”

 

“Mom,” Dylan whined, “it’s not like I don’t know it all anyway.” He took a bite of his cereal, looking up at Sam expectantly. He jumped when there was a loud bang from the master bedroom, and raised an eyebrow.

 

“Probably the alarm clock again,” Sam explained. “Dylan, yes, I know, you skipped, woo-hoo, you’re a genius. Even Newton did homework.”

 

“Didn’t he die a virgin?” Dylan asked, straightening up.

 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Dylan, I need you to study.”

 

“There’s no time!” Dylan exclaimed. “I’ll study for the next one…I promise.”

 

“Good kid,” Sam smiled, nodding once. “Make no plans for after school today,” he reminded him.

 

Dylan nodded, milk dribbling down his chin just a little. “I know,” he assured Sam. “Dad’s cranky about it anyway; for the last…four years he’s been saying he doesn’t want us to celebrate.”

 

“He’s forty!” Sam exclaimed. “We’re celebrating.”

 

“When’s the next time my birthday’s important?” Dylan asked.

 

Sam smiled and walked over to him, ruffling his head before kissing the top of his head. “Your birthday’s always important.” He kissed the top of his head again. “Did you wrap his present yet?”

 

“Why do I have to wrap it?” Dylan asked.

 

“Because it’s from you,” Sam said, walking back over to the counter.

 

“But you bought it,” Dylan pointed out. 

 

Sam came back with, “you’re the one who picked it out.” He cocked his head to the side. “Dylan, just answer my question. Did you wrap it?”

 

Dylan sighed and rolled his eyes before finally shaking his head. “No, not yet. After school, I promise.”

 

Sam stuck his tongue out at Dylan in exasperation. “Good lord kid, I can’t get a straight answer out of you.”

 

Dylan stuck his tongue out back at him before he began laughing. He brought his spoon up to his mouth, still laughing as he opened his mouth around it. 

 

Sam shook his head and rolled his eyes. “God Dylan, I love ya.”

 

Dylan smiled and looked over when there was another loud thump from the bedroom. “Alarm clock again?”

 

Sam shrugged and pushed his bread into the toaster, walking over to the bedroom door, glancing inside the room. “Dean?”

 

Dean groaned and lifted his head from the pillow. “Sorry. Just…throwing my pillow around. Trying to get comfy.” He smiled weakly, shifting on his stomach.

 

“You okay?” Sam asked, cocking his head slightly to the side.

 

Dean nodded and waved his hand. “I am fine. Promise.” He puckered his lips and blew a kiss. “You wanna close the door on the way out? If some crazy breaks in while you’re gone, maybe the closed bedroom door will throw them off.”

 

Sam laughed loudly, reaching out to grab onto the door knob. “Yeah, sure. Of course, I think the knife under your pillow might throw them off too.” He smiled and pulled the door closed behind him, shaking his head.

 

* * * *

 

Dylan stared past his paper, singing to himself in his head. He sighed, blowing across his desk. He looked up when a shadow fell across his desk and he straightened up slowly, looking up at his teacher. “Uh, hi, Mr Donato,” he said quietly, clearing his throat.

 

“Are you finished your test, Mr Winchester?” Mr Donato asked.

 

Dylan glanced down at the paper and shook his head. “Uh no, not yet. Just got distracted, sir.”

 

Mr Donato nodded understandingly. “Dylan, do you mind if we speak after class?”

 

Dylan shook his head. “N-- no, that’s fine. I’ll just…finish my test and then wait around.”

 

Mr Donato smiled. “Good idea.” He tapped his pen against Dylan’s desk and walked away, going over to talk to some other student.

 

Dylan sighed and picked up his pencil, studying the questions again. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, trying to resist the urge to lay it back down on the desk.

 

* * * *

 

Dylan dropped his test on Mr Donato’s desk, trying to smile at him. “Um…you wanted to talk, right?”

 

Mr Donato nodded and pushed his chair back a little. “Dylan, I know that you’re smart.”

 

Dylan nodded and sat down on one of the desks in front of Mr Donato’s. “Yeah, thanks.”

 

“And I know that you skipped the fourth grade,” Mr Donato continued.

 

Dylan nodded again.

 

“Dylan, is the work here too hard?” Mr Donato asked. “Or too easy? Why are you bored?”

 

Dylan shrugged, picking at his jeans. “I don’t know. It’s not either, really. I mean, I have harder classes and easier classes, but I think I’m okay in this grade.” He looked up at Mr Donato. “I don’t know why I’m bored. I’m not bored. I just get distracted easily.”

 

Mr Donato let out a deep breath and nodded. “Did you finish the test?”

 

Dylan nodded. “Took awhile, but yeah.”

 

“Dylan, should I call a meeting with your parents?” Mr Donato asked.

 

Dylan shook his head. “I don’t think so, sir. I just-- I can try harder. I will. I’m just…having a hard time getting back into the swing of things after Christmas break?”

 

Mr Donato shook his head slowly. “Dylan, it’s been getting worse since you first started in my class. Next time you write a test, Dylan, I want you in the resource room.”

 

Dylan’s jaw dropped, his mouth hanging open. “Isn’t that for retards?”

 

“Dylan!” Mr Donato said sternly. “No, it’s not. It’s for students who need a little extra help. And I think that you need a smaller space to write your tests in. Less distractions, maybe more likely you’ll finish your test.”

 

Dylan closed his mouth, letting out a deep breath. “I did finish it though,” he pointed out quietly. He sighed and shifted on his feet. “We don’t have to tell my parents, do we? That I have to write it in a different room?”

 

Mr Donato smiled sympathetically and shook his head. “No, Dylan,” he said gently, “not if you don’t want them to know. But I really don’t think they’d have a problem with it.”

 

Dylan shrugged and stood up from the desk, grabbing onto his backpack. “Can I go now?”

 

Mr Donato nodded, reaching out to pat Dylan’s shoulder. “Dylan, if you ever need a place to study…maybe you just can’t do it at home, my room is always open. So is the resource room.”

 

Dylan sighed and rolled his eyes. “Yeah yeah,” he muttered, walking out of the classroom.

 

* * * *

 

Dean sighed and bit into his pancakes, groaning at the thick syrup, eyes fluttering closed.

 

Sam leaned forward tentatively, watching Dean closely. “So they’re good?” he asked eventually.

 

Dean nodded and began chewing slowly, eyes still closed. He finally opened one to reach out and grab onto his orange juice, taking a small drink. He swallowed his food and grinned, both eyes opening. “They’re great,” he said.

 

Sam grinned and let out a sigh of relief. “Awesome. I’m glad.”

 

Dean nodded and cut his fork into them again, stabbing another piece. “D’you really think they wouldn’t be?” he asked, amused, before taking a bite.

 

Sam sighed, shrugging. He shifting, resting his chin on his hand, arm propped up against the table. “I don’t know,” he mumbled. “Maybe. I don’t make them very often, you know.”

 

Dean grinned and leaned in, giving Sam a kiss, letting him lick all the maple syrup off his lips before pulling back. “What’d you get me?” he asked suddenly, tilting his head slightly.

 

Sam grinned back and shook his head, leaning back in his chair. “No,” he said, chuckling.

 

“No what?” Dean asked, trying not to laugh. “You didn’t get me anything?” He took another bite of pancake.

 

Sam shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said, shifting, “I just…it’s a surprise, Dean. It’s always a surprise. It’s your birthday. It’s your fortieth bi--”

 

“You said you wouldn’t bring that up,” Dean interrupted, dropping his fork.

 

Sam rolled his eyes. “It’s a big one. And it’s a big present. I hope you like it.”

 

Dean sighed and slouched down a little bit, scratching at the back of his neck. “How big?” he asked.

 

Sam thought for a moment. “I don’t know. I think that it’s something you’ve always wanted. I mean…it used to be something that you always wanted.”

 

“You’re worried now, aren’t you?” Dean asked, grinning as Sam stood up, taking his glass with him.

 

Sam looked over at Dean, before nodding. “Yeah, a little bit,” he admitted.

 

Dean laughed softly, leaning back in his chair, stretching his body out. “Sam, you really gotta stop worrying about everything. Really. It’d be funny if it wasn’t so damn annoying.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes and walked over to the cupboard, opening one of the doors. “Can I help it if sometimes my big brother intimidates me?”

 

Dean shook his head. “Hell no. Means I did something right when we were kids.”

 

* * * *

 

“So he wants you to write in the resource room,” Matthew said flatly, watching Dylan throw the football to him. “I don’t know…I’m not really seeing a problem there.”

 

Dylan sighed, shaking his hand. “I just…what do you think my parents are going to say?”

 

Matthew cocked his head to the side. “Uh, I don’t know, Dylan. Nothing? I’ve seen you try and study Dylan, it’s not pretty.”

 

Dylan rolled his eyes. “So you don’t think it means I’m stupid?” he asked, taking a step to catch the ball when Matthew threw it.

 

“Yeah Dylan, you’re stupid,” Matthew said sarcastically. “The kid who skipped the fourth grade and left me a year behind, he’s an idiot.”

 

Dylan sighed again. “I just don’t wanna have to tell my parents. I think they like…expect me to be good now. If they find out I can’t write a test without getting distracted--” he threw the ball back to him. “You won’t tell them, right?”

 

It was Matthew’s turn to roll his eyes. “Whatever.”

 

“Promise!” Dylan cried. “Please! I just…if they have to know--”

 

“But they don’t,” Matthew pointed out. He grabbed the ball and began walking over to Dylan. “Dylan, I think you’re freaking about over nothing.”

 

Dylan pushed his hair back, looking around the soccer field. “Yeah,” he said eventually, “maybe.” He cleared his throat and wiped at his eyes, still not looking back at Matthew. “Do you think I’m stupid?” he asked softly.

 

Matthew laughed and rolled his eyes, reaching out to grab onto Dylan, shaking him gently. “You are insane,” he said slowly, “my god. You have to write a test in a different room. Yeah, it’s official, Dylan, you’re an idiot.” He tossed the football up into the air. “Some people just can’t work with other people in the same room, Dylan,” he said, as he began walking,

 

“But it’s never happened before,” Dylan pointed out, walking alongside Matthew. “Until this year. And I just started…getting bored.”

 

“Again,” Matthew pointed out. “This happened a couple years ago too, Dylan.”

 

Dylan shook his head. “Except then, I was bored because I knew everything. I don’t know everything anymore.”

 

Matthew shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe you should talk to somebody about it.”

 

Dylan stopped walking, looking over at Matthew. “I am. I’m talking to you, aren’t I?”

 

* * * *

 

Sam yawned and shifted in his seat, fingers flexing around the steering wheel. He looked at the doors, seeing if Dylan had made his way out yet and looked up, catching his reflection in the rear view mirror. He sighed, studying the wrinkles around his eyes. He blinked a couple of times and shook his head in disbelief. “God, I’m turning into Dean,” he muttered, looking towards the doors again. He smiled when he saw Dylan making his way across the parking lot, head down.

 

Dylan opened the car door and climbed in, shoving his backpack between his feet.

 

“How was school?” Sam asked.

 

Dylan made a small noise and leaned his head against the window.

 

“Dylan,” Sam said sharply. “School. How was it?”

 

Dylan shrugged and looked down. “Crap, did I forget my football?” he asked, looking up at Sam.

 

“I don’t know, Dylan,” Sam said. “How would I know? Is it in your backpack?”

 

“I don’t know,” Dylan said.

 

Sam rolled his eyes and reached down, grabbing onto Dylan’s backpack. “Well, why don’t you check, Dylan?”

 

Dylan nodded and slowly opened his backpack, peering inside. “No, I got it…but I think I lost my pencil case.”

 

“Anything important in it?” Sam asked, buckling his seatbelt.

 

Dylan shrugged. “Pencils.”

 

“We’ll get more tonight,” Sam said, turning the key in the ignition. “That should hold you over until you find it. We’re going out for supper anyway.” Sam pulled out of the parking spot. “Plus, I have to pick up your father’s birthday present. Which reminds me, you still have to wrap his. And you have to do it, Dylan. We’re going out for supper in a couple hours.”

 

“Okay,” Dylan said. “I’ll wrap it.”

 

“Okay,” Sam nodded. “Once we get home.”

 

Dylan nodded. “Yeah, okay, sure.” He looked out the window as they began the drive home, humming along to the song on the radio. “Is this like, oldies?” he asked, looking over at Sam.

 

Sam snorted and rolled his eyes. “Yes, Dylan, oldies. Came out the year before you born, I think. Jesus.”

 

“I like gospel music and canned applause, ‘cause it doesn't remind me of anything. I like colourful clothing in the sun, ‘cause it doesn’t remind me of anything. I like hammering nails, and speaking in tongues, ‘cause it doesn't remind me of anything.”

 

Dylan nodded to the music, smiling faintly as he reached over to turn it up a little. 

 

“So how’d your test go?” Sam asked suddenly, pulling to a stop at a red light. “Do you think you passed?”

 

“Uh, yeah,” Dylan nodded jerkily. “I think so.”

 

“You’re going to study next time, right?” Sam asked.

 

Dylan nodded again. “Mr Donato said that I should. He kind of…caught me daydreaming in the middle of the test.”

 

“Dylan, you need to stop,” Sam commanded. “I’m being serious. After you finish this year and the next, you’re in high school. They won’t put up with it, and I’m not going to have you fail a year after you already skipped.”

 

Dylan nodded and brought his knees up onto the seat, leaning his head against them. “Okay,” he said quietly, looking away from Sam. “And I’ll wrap his present as soon as we get home.”

 

Sam brought his hand up, kissing his palm before reaching over, ruffling Dylan’s hair. “Good, kiddo. I’m just asking you to do what I know you’re perfectly capable of doing. You get that, right?”

 

Dylan nodded, biting his bottom lip. “Can I talk to you later, Mom?” he asked, closing his eyes, trying to hide the fact that his eyes were slowly filling up with tears.

 

“Sure thing, Pickle,” Sam assured him. “What about?”

 

Dylan shook his head and sniffled. “Just…stuff. Okay?”

 

Sam swallowed and looked over at Dylan, studying him. “Yeah, I promise,” he said softly. “Whenever you want.”

 

Dylan nodded. “Okay.”

 

* * * *

 

“So what’s he wanna talk about?” Dean asked, pulling his shirt on.

 

Sam shrugged and leaned down, pulling on his jeans. “I don’t know. But I think he was crying.”

 

Dean sighed and leaned against the dresser. “So, just you? Or me too?”

 

“I don’t know,” Sam replied, “he didn’t say. He just asked if we could talk later about ‘stuff’.”

 

“What stuff?” Dean asked. “And where’s my present, Sam?”

 

“Dean!” Sam cried in disbelief. “For once, this isn’t about you. Or your presents. I think that Dylan is like, losing it or something.”

 

“Losing what?” Dean asked. “The kid’s only eleven. He doesn’t even have anything to lose, we own it all.”

 

Sam sighed and walked over to Dean, wrapping his arms around Dean. “What if he thinks he’s sick?” he asked quietly, resting his head on Dean’s chest.

 

Dean sighed back and wrapped his arms around Sam, holding him close. “I’m sure that he doesn’t.”

 

“What if-- what if there is something wrong?” Sam asked, shifting against Dean. “Dean, there is, I can feel it. I know it.”

 

Dean drew a sharp breath. “Vision?”

 

Sam pulled back and shook his head. “He’s my kid, I know when something’s wrong.”

 

Dean snorted and pushed Sam away from him, going into the bathroom.

 

“What?” Sam asked in confusion. “What was wrong with that? What, you found that offensive or something?”

 

Dean slammed the bathroom door closed behind him. “Yes, I do!” he yelled.

 

Sam rubbed his face and shook his head, grabbing his shirt off the bed before walking out of the bedroom, looking around for Dylan. He sighed and walked into the living room. “Dyl,” he said, getting his attention.

 

“Yeah?” Dylan asked after a few moments, looking up at Sam, who was pulling on his shirt.

 

Sam cocked an eyebrow and fixed his shirt. “Present?”

 

Dylan stared at Sam before realization hit and he dropped his eyes. “I’ll be in my room,” he said, turning off the television, walking down the hallway to his room.

 

Sam sighed and rubbed his eyes, looking around the house. “God,” he muttered, dropping down onto the couch. He groaned and rolled around a little bit, getting a little more comfortable. He closed his eyes and shoved his face into the pillow, wondering what the hell was going on.

 

Dean stared at himself in the mirror, gripping the counter tightly. He took a deep breath, shaking his head. He straightened up and reached up slowly, letting his hands trail over his face, fingers following each of the wrinkles in his skin. He swallowed hard and dropped his eyes before dropping his hand, sitting down on the floor, head in his arms.

 

Dylan concentrated on the DVD, focusing as much energy as he could on it. His face broke out into a grin when it finally lifted on his bed, floating a few inches in the air. He let out a deep breath and closed his eyes, the DVD falling back to the bed. He kept grinning and reached over, examining the case. “Awesome,” he murmured. He glanced over at his clock, checking the time before looking back at the items spread out on his bed. He frowned, wondering if it would be easier to wrap the DVD with his hands or with his mind. He sighed and reached out, grabbing onto the scissors. 

 

Sam shifted on the couch and tried to wrap his arms around himself before he almost rolled of the couch. He gasped a little, reaching out to grab onto the coffee table before pushing himself up, glancing down at his watch. “Dean!” he called, standing up. “Dylan! One of you had better be ready.” He figured Dean knew enough to get himself ready and he made his way down to Dylan’s room, knocking lightly on the door before pushing it open, cocking his head to the side. “It floats, great. But did you wrap it?”

 

Dylan nodded and dropped the DVD back onto his bed, before pushing himself up, grabbing onto the present. “Mom, why are we so weird?” he asked as he walked by Sam, going down the hallway.

 

Sam shrugged and turned around. “I don’t know. Go get your father and find out.”

 

Dylan tossed the DVD onto the couch as he walked by, continuing on through the dining room and into the kitchen, knocking on the bathroom door.

 

Sam reached down and picked the DVD up off the couch as he walked by, sitting down at the kitchen table.

 

“What’s going on, Dad?” Dylan asked quietly as he walked into the bathroom, looking down at Dean.

 

Dean just shook his head slowly, leaning it back against the wall, eyes eventually flicking up to Dylan. “Where’s Sam?”

 

Dylan shrugged. “Kitchen, I guess.” He sighed and sat down on the floor, looking over at his father. “You’re having a crappy day too, huh?”

 

Dean huffed and smiled weakly, before nodding slowly. “Yeah. Guess you could say that.”

 

Dylan smiled back. “Yeah, sort of an understatement too.”

 

Dean looked over at Dylan sympathetically. “Ever wonder how your mom manages to stay so sane? ‘Cause I sure as hell do.” He shook his head. 

 

“I think we’re supposed to go to dinner,” Dylan said flatly, raising an eyebrow. “For your birthday.”

 

Dean nodded slowly. “Yeah, my birthday,” he muttered. “You ever heard of a mid-life crisis, Dyl?”

 

Dylan shrugged. “I guess so. Dad, you’re not old or anything…if that’s what you think.”

 

Dean shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Of course I am. I’m forty. God knows I always thought it was old.” He sighed. “Where we going for dinner?”

 

Dylan shrugged again. “I’m not sure. Semi-formal, I’m thinking. I don’t really know.”

 

Dean nodded. “Dylan…when you look at me…what do you think?”

 

“Uh,” Dylan studied his father, “I’m not really sure that I understand the question. What do you mean?”

 

Dean shook his head and shrugged. “Do I look old? Especially compared to your mom, do I look old?”

 

Dylan thought for a moment, before shaking his head. “No. Not really. You kind of look the same age to me.”

 

Dean smiled in amusement. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

 

Dylan shrugged and pushed himself up, holding his hand out to Dean. “I don’t know. It’s just an okay thing.”

 

* * * *

 

Sam reached over to Dean, and grasped onto his hand loosely, trying to smile at him. “Did you like your dinner?”

 

Dean made a small non-committal sound, looking around outside the car.. “Why are we here?” he asked flatly.

 

Sam shrugged. “Because your present is here. Actually…the more I think about it, the present I was actually going to get you seems like less and less of a good idea. Maybe we should go.”

 

Dean looked over at Sam. “You can get me what you wanted.”

 

Sam shook his head quickly. “I-- I really don’t think that it was such a good idea. I mean…you don’t really seem like you’re in the mood for-- for what I wanted to get you.”

 

“Well, I won’t be in this mood forever,” Dean snapped. “Sam! Just go get me my present.”

 

“Do you-- wanna come with?” Sam asked, dropping his hand from Dean’s.

 

Dean sighed and glanced back at Dylan, who was sipping from his soda. “Yeah, sure.”

 

“I already have hi-- it picked out,” Sam said. “I just…come on in. Both of you.” He opened the car door, climbing out. He walked up the driveway and knocked on the door, shifting on the front step. He smiled when it opened, reaching out to give Lacy a hug.

 

“How are you?” Lacy shrieked, kissing Sam’s cheek. “Gosh, I’m so glad you’re here.”

 

Sam grinned and pulled back, stepping back. “Dean, this is--”

 

“Lacy, right?” Dean interrupted, stepping forward to shake Lacy’s hand. “Hi.”

 

Lacy grinned and looked over at Dylan. “Hi. You must be Dylan.”

 

Dylan nodded slowly, reaching out to shake Lacy’s hand. “My dad’s present is in here?”

 

Lacy smiled and nodded, walking back into her house. “Yeah, it is. Come on in, it’s out back.”

 

Sam smiled and walked into the house, glancing back to make sure that Dean and Dylan were following. “I really hope you like it,” he said quietly, meeting Dean’s eyes.

 

Dean shrugged. “Yeah, I’m sure I will.”

 

“Can you close your eyes?” Sam asked hopefully.

 

Dean nodded and closed his eyes, waiting in the hallway, Dylan standing beside him.

 

Sam smiled and followed Lacy outside, grinning. “He really is gorgeous, Lace,” he said softly.

 

Lacy nodded. “Yeah, my parents are quite the breeders,” she agreed.

 

“So he’s like, healthy, right?” Sam asked.

 

“After you called, we got him checked for syringomyelia,” Lacy said. “He checked out fine. But you gotta know, a lot of these dogs have mitral valve disease.” She looked up at Sam sadly. “Apparently, neither of his parents did, but who knows. My parents are really strict about the breeding, so he really could turn out just fine.”

 

Sam nodded understandingly. “If he does…how long do they live?”

 

“Between seven and ten years,” Lacy replied. 

 

Sam nodded. “Dyl’s eleven, he’ll probably be out of the house when it happens then. Good.” He grinned and knelt down, petting the dog, letting it lick his face. “Oh my goodness, you are just the cutest little doggie ever. I love you, I do. And Daddy will love you too.” 

 

Lacy grinned. “My parents left a couple of things for you, about their coats and about the valve disease. Pamphlets or something.”

 

Sam nodded. “Thank you. For-- well, for not hating me.”

 

Lacy smiled and shook her head. “You know, Studios Evil…I still work there. Full-time now. Peter needs another worker.”

 

Sam nodded absent-mindedly.

 

Lacy looked up at him. “Sebastien left…years ago, you know. He went back to Harvard. Sam, I talked to Peter.”

 

“Yeah?” Sam asked.

 

Lacy nodded eagerly. “Please, please come back. Please. I would love it. And Peter would too, even if he won’t admit it. It’s been so long…you don’t have another job, do you?”

 

Sam shook his head. “No,” he breathed. 

 

“Call Peter,” Lacy said. “He will hire you. He just wants to hear it from you.”

 

Sam smiled. “Yeah, okay. Yeah, I think I will.” He grinned a little wider and leaned down, petting the dog again. He picked the dog up, smiling at Lacy. “Be sure to thank your parents for me.” He began walking back towards the house, making faces down at the dog. 

 

“Holy…” Dylan said. “Dad, look at it!”

 

Dean opened his eyes slowly, and couldn’t help his jaw dropping a little bit when he saw the dog. “Oh my god, Sam,” he said in surprise. “You got me a hot chick!” he grinned, looking at Lacy.

 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Dean.”

 

Dean grinned and stepped forward, running his fingers through the dog’s long coat. “What type is it?”

 

“Cavalier King Charles Spaniel,” Lacy replied, closing the door behind her and Sam. “My parents are big on the whole dog thing, best in show, all that.”

 

“He’s gorgeous,” Dean said softly, in awe. “He’s a he?”

 

Lacy nodded. “Yep.”

 

“What’s his name?” Dean asked. 

 

Sam shrugged. “I don’t know.”

 

Dean smiled up at Sam. “You want me to name him,” he said quietly.

 

Dylan walked over, reaching out, letting the dog lick his hand.

 

“So…Cavalier King Charles?” Dean repeated, looking over at Lacy, who just nodded. “King Chuck. Obviously.”

 

Sam grinned. “What do you think, Dylan?” he asked, leaning down to let King Chuck down onto the floor.

 

Dylan knelt down in front of the dog, grinning as he sniffed his hand. “Wow. He’s really nice.”

 

Sam nodded. “I just thought that…with Gus--”

 

Dylan looked up at Sam sadly. “Yeah. But a dog…that’s so cool. King Chuck. Danny’s gonna love him.” He grinned. “So whose dog is he?”

 

“Well, I guess he’s everyone’s,” Sam said, “really.” He looked over at Dean, who was nodding.

 

“My parents got him trained,” Lacy said suddenly. “They train all the dogs they breed.” She looked over at Sam, smiling. 

 

“Uh, Dean,” Sam said, stepping over to him, “would it…sort of be okay if…I got a job?”

 

Dean looked at Sam in confusion. “As a dog breeder?”

 

Sam laughed and shook his head. “No, at-- Lacy said that Peter needs another worker and that Sebastien--”

 

Dean cringed at the name. 

 

“Left years ago and I just-- all I have to do is call him,” Sam finished. “Peter, I mean. And I really want to. So, can I?”

 

Dean sighed and looked up at Sam. “You didn’t really ask me the first time you got that job.” He broke out into a grin. “That’s awesome, Sam. It’s been years, I can’t even-- Lacy, you still work there?”

 

Lacy nodded. “Full time. Sam would still be part-time, if he still needs to, you know, pick Dylan up and everything.”

 

Sam grinned. “So…I just gotta call Peter. Really? Wow. It’s been…forever.”

 

Lacy shrugged. “Peter doesn’t keep workers on for very long. I know it’s been…god, six years? Wow. But-- we just never saw each other and you…never came back.”

 

Sam nodded and looked down at Dylan, who was sticking his tongue out at King Chuck. “Yeah, I guess I didn’t.”

 

Dylan looked up at Sam, grinning. “I never really got why you quit, Mom.”

 

Sam shook his head. “Just…wanted to spend all my time at home, I guess.”

 

Dylan frowned, but looked back down at King Chuck, making another face.

 

* * * *

 

Dean shivered as Sam’s fingers ran down the middle of his back and shifted in the mirror. “Dyl and King Chuck…”

 

“Sleeping,” Sam said softly, brushing his lips against Dean’s shoulder. “It’s okay.”

 

Dean nodded and shifted uncomfortably again. “Sam, I just-- how can you look at me?”

 

Sam grinned, and leaned down, nipping at Dean’s earlobe. “Like this,” he teased, looking at them in the mirror. 

 

Dean met Sam’s eyes in the glass, leaning back against him. “I’m forty now, you know.”

 

Sam nodded slowly, letting his hands wander over Dean’s hips. “Yeah, I know. Good thing I like my men older.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes. “I’m not too old for you anymore?” he pressed his hips back, ass scraping against the denim of Sam’s pants.

 

Sam shook his head. “Never.” He kissed Dean’s neck, one hand wandering up to rub at Dean’s nipple, feeling it tighten and harden beneath his fingertips. “Still as sexy as the first time we kissed.”

 

Dean smiled at the memory, lifting his arm, reaching back to grasp onto Sam’s neck, pulling him down. “Yeah?”

 

Sam nodded, his other hand moving down to grasp around the base of Dean’s dick. 

 

Dean gasped and jerked his hips.

 

“Still as sexy as the first time you fucked me,” Sam whispered, jerking Dean off slowly, thumbing under the head.

 

Dean began trembling in Sam’s arms, still watching them in the mirror. “Really?” he asked, voice breaking.

 

Sam grinned and leaned in, shifting, brushing his lips against Dean’s, sucking on his bottom lip. He nodded slowly, working his hips against Dean’s. “Still as sexy as the first time I fucked you,” he breathed, smiling at Dean in the mirror.

 

* * * *

 

“What’s it say?” Dean asked, leaning over, trying to read the paper.

 

Sam quickly scanned the page and glanced over at Dylan, who was sitting quietly, head hanging. “It all makes sense,” he said quietly, showing Dean the paper.

 

Dean took the paper from Sam and read it, looking over at the doctor before looking over at Dylan. “Dyl, all this stuff…really happens to you?”

 

Dylan nodded slowly. “Yeah, I guess.”

 

“ADHD predominantly inattentive is a lot harder to diagnose than ADHD,” the doctor explained. “Dylan seems to show no signs of hyperactivity. I’m guessing that most people have passed his daydreaming and distractions at school off as boredom.”

 

“Sometimes, it is,” Dylan admitted quietly.

 

“Of course, it changes when the symptoms also occur at home,” the doctor continued. He tried to smile at Sam and Dean. “There seem to be a lot of children these days with ADHD. Whether they actually have it or not, I don’t know. Whether Dylan actually has ADHD-PI, I do think I know that. I’m not some crazy doctor who is trying to pump Dylan full of stimulants, please don’t think that.”

 

Sam nodded understandingly. “These symptoms…they fit. The forgetfulness, doesn’t like homework or studying, doesn’t listen when spoken to, loses things…he sounded like every other kid, I guess.”

 

Dylan lifted his head, looking over at his parents. “You guys aren’t mad at me?” he asked.

 

“No!” Dean exclaimed. “Dylan, this isn’t something you’ve had control over. We should’ve picked it up a couple of years ago, except for the fact that you’re also a little genius, so we really just thought you were bored in class.”

 

“This part here,” Sam began, “‘some of the symptoms that cause impairment must have been present before seven years of age’. That’s the part I don’t like. I don’t remember that.”

 

Dean shrugged, thinking for a moment. “I’m not sure we would’ve noticed. Younger than seven, aren’t all kids like that? He was just starting school, making friends, getting used to things. Probably got lost in the shuffle.”

 

Sam sighed and looked over at Dylan. “Dyl? What do you think?”

 

Dylan shrugged. “I just…I really try, I guess. I don’t know. The symptoms, they really do seem to fit. But what if it’s not me? What if I am just forgetful, and easily distracted?”

 

Sam sighed. “Is there any options for treatment…other than drugs?”

 

Dean rolled his eyes. “Great, another Tom Cruise,” he muttered.

 

“Dean!” Sam exclaimed. “What if Dylan’s right? What if this isn’t him? Maybe he doesn’t have ADHD-PI, or whatever it is. I’d rather he not be drugged, thank you.”

 

Dean sighed, looking at the doctor expectantly.

 

“There’s behavioural therapy,” the doctor replied. “No drugs.”

 

Sam nodded once. “Yeah, okay.”

 

The doctor stood up and walked over to his bookshelf, scanning the titles quickly. He grabbed a small book of the shelf, nodding to himself. “I can get the information in this book to you. I’ll just go run it to the ladies in the office. If you’ll excuse me.” He smiled and opened the door, stepping out into the hallway.

 

Dean and Sam looked over at Dylan, who had his head hanging again, shoulders shaking, fingers digging into his seat. “Dyl?” Dean asked gently.

 

Dylan lifted his head, eyes filled with tears. “I don’t wanna be this kind of weird too,” he cried, pushing himself up, walking over to his parents.

 

Sam wrapped his arms around Dylan, letting him cry into his chest.

 

“Dylan, it’ll be okay,” Dean assured him. “It’ll…it’s not even really that bad, you’re doing good with it. This isn’t going to be a big deal, Dylan, I promise. No drugs, and we’ll just,” he took a deep breath, “talk a little sterner to you. It’ll be okay, I promise.”

 

“Yeah?” Dylan asked, lifting his head, sniffling.

 

Sam nodded. “Yeah. Promise. I mean, what that book’s gonna say, I’m sure we could figure out on our own. Eventually, we’d probably start doing it. Just…Dylan, I don’t know why you had to let your teacher call us and tell us that he wanted you to write your tests alone. You could’ve told us.”

 

Dylan nodded and sat down on Sam’s lap. “I just…I’m smart. I thought if you knew that, you’d think I was stupid.” He sighed, curling into Sam’s chest.

 

Dean leaned down and kissed Dylan’s forehead, Sam running his fingers through his hair gently. “Dylan, nobody could ever think you were stupid. I promise. And this’ll be okay. It’ll all work out, okay?”

 

Dylan took a deep breath and nodded, wiping at his eyes and nose. “Yeah. It’ll be okay.”

 

Dean nodded once and kissed Dylan’s forehead again.


	20. Chapter 20

Title: Look What Love Has Done - Volume 3 - Chapter 20

Pairing: Sam/Dean

Disclaimer: Not mine

Rating: PG-13 this chapter

Summary: Dean and John speak of John's next visit; Bobby calls the boys with awful news

Author's Note: Forget volume one, forget volume two; this is volume three 

 

twelve years, seven months and fifteen days old

 

Dylan slowly made his way down the hall, thankful for the streetlights outside the living room window when he saw King Chuck, curled up on the floor. He walked around the dog and sighed, wiping at his eyes before picking at his pyjama pants. He crossed the living room and walked over to the master bedroom, knocking softly on the door. He waited for a moment before opening the door just a crack, peering in. “Mom?” he asked softly, opening the door just a bit more. He waited for a response before opening the door further, stepping inside. He closed the door behind him and could just make out his parents on the bed in the dark. He sniffled and wiped at his eyes, walking over to the bed, reaching out to Sam. “Mom?” he asked again.

 

Sam sighed in his sleep and shifted under the covers, hand flexing around Dean’s, who was draped over his back.

 

“Are you awake?” Dylan asked.

 

Sam yawned loudly and shifted, Dean rolling off of him. “Dyl?” he mumbled, eyes opening a few moments later. “Okay?”

 

“I think I’m sick,” Dylan whined, grabbing onto a couple of Sam’s fingers.

 

Sam groaned and shifted on the mattress, giving Dylan room to sit down. “Where’s your forehead?” he asked, lifting his hand.

 

“It’s not like that,” Dylan said. “It’s something else. It has to be my stomach.”

 

Sam sighed. “Why’s it gotta be your stomach?” he asked softly, looking over to see Dean roll onto his stomach.

 

“‘Cause…” Dylan’s shoulders began to shake and he wiped at his nose, “I wet the bed, Mommy,” he cried.

 

Sam took a deep breath and pushed himself up, reaching out to run his fingers through Dylan’s hair. “Dyl, I don’t think you wet the bed.”

 

“Yes, I did,” Dylan insisted, leaning in to wrap his arms around Sam’s neck.

 

Sam kissed Dylan’s head and sighed, reaching over to try and shove Dean over a little. “Come on, come sleep with me.” He moved over until there was enough room for Dylan to crawl in beside him, pulling the sheets up around him. “Better?” he asked, brushing Dylan’s hair off his forehead.

 

Dylan nodded, curling against Sam. 

 

Sam smiled in the dark, wrapping an arm around Dylan. “It’s okay, Dyl. You’re not sick.”

 

Dylan sniffled. “Are you sure? ‘Cause Mommy--”

 

“I’m sure,” Sam interrupted gently. “And I know you’re sure too, Dylan. You know what happened.”

 

Dylan shook his head. “This is that…wet dream thing, isn’t it?”

 

Sam nodded slowly. “Yeah, it is. You’re fine, Dylan, you’re not sick.”

 

Dylan sniffled and nodded. “But Mommy, my sheets are gonna be all stained or something.”

 

“We’ll do the laundry in the morning,” Sam offered. “And yes, by we, I do mean me.” He kissed Dylan’s forehead. “It’s okay, kiddo. It happens to everybody. It’s not going to happen often and it’ll probably stop after awhile. And it’s happens in your sleep. No biggy.”

 

“So you’re not mad at me?” Dylan asked.

 

Sam shook his head. “Never.”

 

“Will Daddy be mad at me?” Dylan asked.

 

Sam shook his head again. “No, Dylan, nobody’s gonna be mad at you for this. I promise.”

 

Dylan sighed and nodded. “If it happens again, what should I do?”

 

Sam shrugged. “Whatever you want, Dyl,” he replied. “You can just take your sheets off and sleep without ‘em, or you can go get new ones and change ‘em yourself, or you can come sleep with me. Or Daddy if he’s awake. Or if we’re both awake, you can get the middle.” He grinned. “Just get some sleep, Dylan. It’ll seem better in the morning.”

 

“And if happens again tonight?” Dylan asked.

 

Sam tightened his hold on Dylan. “Well, I’m already doing one load of laundry tomorrow.” He kissed the top of Dylan’s head. “Love you, Dylan.”

 

Dylan just nodded and murmured tiredly. “Love you, Mommy.”

 

* * * *

 

Dean nodded and walked into the storage room of the CD store. “So where are you now?”

 

“Nebraska,” John replied. “How is everything going?”

 

“Great,” Dean replied proudly. “It’s-- it’s good. It really is. King Chuck is fitting right in with the rest of us.”

 

John laughed softly. “That is a nice dog, I gotta admit.”

 

Dean nodded, pulling out a box. “Dylan misses ya. You gotta come back and see him for Christmas.”

 

“How’s the ADHD?” John asked, holding his cell phone up to his ear with his shoulder. 

 

“ADHD-PI,” Dean corrected quickly, “but yeah, he’s good. Getting better. Still no drugs which seems to be working. Whether he actually is ADHD-PI or not, he’s getting better at remembering things and everything so…we’re happy. And proud.”

 

John nodded. “I can’t wait to see him again. I’ll definitely come down for Christmas. Better get me something good.”

 

Dean laughed softly, pulling out a stack of CDs. “You got it, Dad,” he grinned. “So how’s everything going with you? What are you doing in Nebraska?”

 

“Going up to Bobby’s,” John nodded. “I need a place to crash for awhile and I don’t see any hunts coming up. I figure Bobby will have to let me in eventually.”

 

Dean laughed again. “Yeah, eventually.”

 

“So how’s Dylan dealing with what, eighth grade?” John asked. “Wow. My grandson’s in the eighth grade. Freshman next year.”

 

“Yeah,” Dean said softly. “Growing up fast. Speaking of that…” he grinned, “wet dream,” he finished in a sing-song voice.

 

John rolled his eyes. “God, how was that for him?”

 

Dean laughed loudly. “Oh yeah, I’m sure it was great. Won’t tell us what he was dreaming about, but I think he’s okay. He thought he peed the bed or something; I don’t know, I was asleep. Kids, huh?”

 

John chuckled softly. “You think you got it bad,” he teased.

 

“Hey!” Dean exclaimed. “Sam and I never…we weren’t like that.”

 

“Sure, Dean,” John agreed sarcastically. “I should probably let you go sometime.”

 

Dean nodded. “Yeah, probably. Gotta get back to the grind of the work day.”

 

“Yeah, sure,” John said. “Tell Dylan and Sam I said hi next time you seem ‘em, huh?”

 

Dean nodded again, switching his phone to the other ear. “Love you, Dad.”

 

“Love you,” John echoed, taking his phone away from his ear, turning it off.

 

Dean shut his phone off, shoving it into his pocket before walking back out of the storage room, flicking off the lights awkwardly with posters in his hands. He walked over to the display, sighing.

 

* * * *

 

“So why is he in Nebraska?” Dylan asked, rolling around on the floor, King Chuck rolling around with him.

 

“He’s going up to visit Bobby,” Dean explained, “in South Dakota. Says no hunts coming up, so he’s just gonna crash there for awhile.” He leaned down and scratched King Chuck’s head, running his fingers through his long hair. “He said he’ll come down for Christmas, visit us.”

 

Sam grinned. “Oh yeah, did he now? Well…” he glanced over at Dylan, “that’s great,” he said finally. “Can’t wait,” he said sarcastically. 

 

Dean rolled his eyes. “He’ll come. Who knows, maybe we can even get him to stay. He is like, sixty-five or something. He’s gotta stop hunting sometime.”

 

Sam shook his head, chuckling softly. “If you think that, Dean…” he pushed himself up, going into the kitchen.

 

“What’s Mom talking about?” Dylan asked, finally stilling on the floor.

 

Dean shrugged. “Well, you’ve talked to your grandfather, Dyl. You know what he’s like. He loves hunting. Being in his sixties isn’t going to stop that.”

 

Dylan nodded and reached up, letting King Chuck lick at his hand. “Maybe…I’d like it if he moved here, with us.” He sat up, letting the dog climb onto his lap. 

 

Dean smiled and nodded slowly. “I’d like it too, Dylan.” He pushed himself up, reaching down to pet the dog. “It sucked when he moved out, but Sam’s right…we’re crazy if we think that it’ll ever happen.” He ruffled Dylan’s hair and followed Sam out into the kitchen, smiling up at him before opening the cupboard. “You know what today is, right?”

 

Sam frowned, thinking for a moment as he took a drink. “Uh, no. Do you know what today is?”

 

Dean pulled down the box of crackers, nodding eagerly. “Hump Day.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes but ended up laughing anyway, leaning down to kiss Dean. “No tonight, Dean,” he said, pulling back. “If Dylan comes in again tonight, I think that’s the last thing he needs to see.”

 

“Dude!” Dean exclaimed, pulling back to lightly shove Sam.

 

Sam laughed loudly, shoving Dean back. “What, dude?”

 

“Now I’m never gonna be have sex again,” Dean began, “without thinking of walking in on us! Thanks for that, Sammy.”

 

Sam shook his head. “Yeah, Dean. You have issues.” He laughed again, walking by Dean, going back into the living room. He sat down on the floor beside Dylan, scratching King Chuck’s ears. “Dylan,” he began softly, “if something comes up and Grampie doesn’t come for Christmas--”

 

“It’s okay, Mom,” Dylan assured him. “He’ll come when he comes, I guess.”

 

Sam smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I guess. He always does.” He leaned down, letting King Chuck lick his face. 

 

* * * *

 

Dean looked down at his cell phone, reading John’s number. He sighed and straightened up, scanning the DVD in his hands. “Okay, that’s twenty-two seventy-eight, please.” He handed the woman the debit machine, putting the DVD in a bag. His phone stopped ringing and he sighed, handing the bag over to the customer when she finished with the debit machine. “Thank you. Have a nice day.”

 

“You too,” she smiled, walking away from the counter.

 

Dean grabbed his phone and dialled John’s number, listening to it ring. “Hey, Dad. What’s going on?”

 

“Dean, it ain’t John,” came Bobby’s gruff voice. 

 

“Bobby?” Dean asked, confused. “Um, okay? I’m guessing Dad made it to your place.”

 

“Dean, you and Sam need to get your asses here,” Bobby said quickly, “and now.”

 

“Why?” Dean asked. “What’s going on? Bobby, we don’t have time to hu--”

 

“It’s your father,” Bobby interrupted. “He’s in the goddamn hospital. And in case you haven’t noticed, I ain’t that equipped to visit him everyday.”

 

“What happened?” Dean demanded. “Why is he in the hospital?”

 

“He showed up at my place, dizzy as fuck,” Bobby said. “I don’t know how he made it here, he could barely see. Headache. I think we both thought he just had a migraine. He went to bed. He didn’t get back up.”

 

Dean swallowed hard. “And it’s…not a migraine.”

 

“No,” Bobby said softly. “Dean, the man had a stroke.”

 

A lump was instantly in Dean’s throat and he felt like he was going to be sick. “What?” he asked in disbelief. “What do you mean?”

 

“Dean, I’m sorry,” Bobby said, and Dean could tell that Bobby was either crying, or trying his best not to. “He’s brain…you just need to come, okay?”

 

Dean nodded jerkily. “Yeah,” he said eventually, reaching up to wipe his eyes. “Is he dead?” he asked.

 

Bobby cleared his throat. “You just…will you come?”

 

“Of course,” Dean assured him. “We’ll…fuck, I don’t know how, but we’ll come. Fly or something, if we have to. I have to call Sam.”

 

“I’ll call you later,” Bobby said. “Keep you updated.”

 

Dean nodded slowly. “Yeah, thanks,” he said, before pulling his phone back, shutting it off. He dropped it onto the counter, staring straight ahead of him, and he could feel more tears coming. He closed his eyes, rocking back and forth on his feet. He sniffled loudly and opened his eyes, reaching out to grab onto his phone again, slowly dialling Sam’s number.

 

“Is that mine?” Sam called from the backroom.

 

“Uh, yeah!” Lacy called back after checking her own phone.

 

“Shit,” Sam muttered, dropping the box to run back out into the store, smiling when Lacy tossed his phone over to him. “Thanks,” he nodded, answering the phone. “Hey Dean.”

 

Dean swallowed hard and his fingers jerked around his phone, not wanting to speak.

 

“Dean?” Sam asked. “Are you okay?”

 

Dean let out a deep breath, closing his eyes again. “Sam?” He could feel his tears start and he rolled his lips into his mouth. “It’s Dad,” he said finally.

 

* * * *

 

“Is Dylan packing?” Sam asked, looking up when Dean came into the bedroom.

 

Dean nodded dumbly and walked over to the closet, opening it. He frowned and looked over at Sam questioningly. 

 

“I already packed your stuff,” Sam explained, nodding over at the suitcase on the floor. “It’s…in there.”

 

Dean nodded and closed the closet door, walking over to Sam. “I asked Todd if he could take the dog.”

 

Sam sighed and shoved a couple of his shirts into his bag. “Yeah?”

 

Dean nodded again. “He said he’ll do it, no problem.” He scratched his head and sat down on the bed, looking up at Sam. “How long’s it gonna take to fly?”

 

Sam shrugged. “I’m not really quite sure. Our flight leaves at four forty-five. I think we’re supposed to get in around…eleven. But shit gets delayed all of the time and our layover could take longer than it’s supposed to and--” he stopped talking and just looked at Dean. “Six hours.”

 

Dean nodded once. “Yeah.” He stood up and reached out for Sam, hand on his shoulder. 

 

Sam looked over at him, waiting for him to say something. “Yeah?”

 

Dean just shook his head. “Uh…do people die from strokes?” he asked quietly.

 

Sam dropped his jeans into his bag and swallowed hard. “Yeah,” he answered, equally as soft. “They do.”

 

“He’s not gonna be able to hunt again, is he?” Dean asked. “He’ll be like…paralysed even if he lives, right?”

 

Sam shrugged before shaking his head. “I think some people recover fine. But yeah, he might be. If he lives.” He went back to putting clothes into his bag.

 

Dean sighed and dropped his hand from Sam’s shoulder. “We gotta leave soon. What like, forty-five minutes to get there?”

 

Sam nodded. “Yeah.”

 

Dean nodded back. “I’ll go check on Dylan, then take the dog over to Todd’s.”

 

“Kay,” Sam breathed, staring down at his suitcase. 

 

Dean walked out of their bedroom and made his way down to Dylan’s, pushing open the door. “You okay?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe.

 

Dylan shrugged, folding a couple of shirts. “I’ve never flown before.”

 

Dean shook his head. “I don’t do it a lot.” He rolled his lips into his mouth, watching Dylan pack. “He’ll-- you know, he’ll be okay.”

 

“That’s what Mom said too,” Dylan said softly, looking up when King Chuck came running into the room. “Are we leaving soon?”

 

Dean nodded. “Yeah. I just wanted to check on you. I gotta take the dog across the street.”

 

Dylan walked away from his bed and knelt down, petting King Chuck. “Hey boy, we gotta go away for a few days. It’ll be okay, Danny will watch you.” He leaned down, kissing the dog. “I’ll take him over Dad,” he offered, looking up at him.

 

“Okay,” Dean agreed, walking over to Dylan’s bed, “and I’ll finish packing for you. All his stuff’s already in a bag in the kitchen.”

 

Dylan hooked a couple of fingers around the dog’s collar and began leading him down the hallway, glancing into the master bedroom as he walked by. “I’m just taking Chuck to Danny’s, Mom,” he called, grabbing onto his sneakers.

 

“Don’t be too long,” Sam said, sticking his head out of the room. “We have to go soon.”

 

“I know,” Dylan said, straightening up, grabbing the bag of King Chuck’s thing. “I’m just gonna be a sec.”

 

“Alright,” Sam nodded, going back into his bedroom.

 

Dylan sighed and walked out the door, letting go of the dog collar once they were on the driveway. “Stay with me, Chuck.” King Chuck panted up at Dylan, mouth open. “Yeah, I know Chuck,” he said softly, glancing both ways before clapping his hands and hurrying across the street. “Come on, Chuck!” he called, running up Danny’s driveway. King Chuck barked loudly and ran after Dylan, going a few feet in front of him before running back to him.

 

“Hey, Dyl,” Todd said, walking out of his house.

 

“Hi,” Dylan replied, looking up at Todd. “Danny home yet?”

 

Todd shook his head. “He gets out in a few more minutes. How’s Chuck?”

 

“Good,” Dylan said, nodding. “Is Danny okay around dogs?”

 

“Well he’s been around Chuck,” Todd pointed out, leaning down to pet the dog.

 

“Yeah, but not without me,” Dylan said softly, walking up the porch steps. “I don’t really know how long we’ll be gone.”

 

Todd nodded. “Yeah, your dad mentioned. It’s not problem. What are you doing about school?”

 

Dylan shrugged. “I don’t really know. My teachers gave me what they knew we’d be doing, so I guess I’ll do that…on the plane or something. At the hospital.”

 

“Do you know how he is?” Todd asked, taking the bag from Dylan.

 

Dylan shook his head. “Uncle Bobby wasn’t really that sure. I don’t think he’s awake,” he finished quietly.

 

Todd sighed and reached out, ruffling Dylan’s hair. “I’m sorry, Dylan.”

 

Dylan nodded. “Thanks. But I think we gotta go soon, so I better be going. Tell Danny hi, right?”

 

“Of course,” Todd assured him. “I hope your grandfather’s okay, Dylan.”

 

“Thanks,” Dylan said again, leaning down to pet King Chuck. “Bye, Chuck,” he said, smiling at Todd before jumping down the steps. “Stay!”

 

Todd watched Dylan run down the driveway and made sure that he made it across the street safely before opening the door, letting King Chuck run inside.

 

Dylan ran up his driveway and back into the house, looking around for his parents. He sighed and began walking, stopping when he heard them talking in their bedroom. 

 

“It’ll be okay, Sammy,” Dean assured him softly, rubbing Sam’s arms.

 

Sam sniffled and nodded, rubbing at his nose and eyes. “I just--” he let out a broken sob, “I just don’t want Dad to die.”

 

Dean shook his head and wrapped his arms around Sam, pulling him down for a hug. “He won’t,” Dean whispered, “he can’t.”

 

Dylan dropped his eyes and pushed himself off the wall, taking a deep breath. “I’m back!” he called. He turned the corner and looked into the bedroom, trying to smile. “Are we going?”

 

Sam nodded and pulled back from Dean, wiping at his eyes again. “Yeah, pretty soon. Why don’t you go put your bag in the car, huh?”

 

Dylan nodded and turned on the spot, walking down to his bedroom.

 

Sam sniffled loudly and reached down, zipping up his suitcase. “Do you wanna drive, or what?”

 

“Sure,” Dean said quietly, leaning up to kiss Sam’s cheek. He stepped back and grabbed onto his bag. “I’ll go put this in the car.” 

 

Sam nodded and watched Dean walk out of the bedroom before sitting down on the bed, tears still coming. He sniffled and looked up when Dylan walked by the bedroom again. He squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his head, shoulders shaking.

 

Dylan began walking slowly, watching Sam in his room before he finally just dropped his bag and ran into the master bedroom, wrapping his arms around Sam’s neck. “It’ll be okay, Mom,” Dylan said softly, squeezing Sam tightly.

 

Sam nodded and began to sob into Dylan’s shirt, wrapping his arms around him. 

 

“It’ll be okay,” Dylan repeated quietly, shifting to sit down on Sam’s knee, resting his head on Sam’s shoulder. “He’ll be okay.”

 

* * * *

 

“I have to pee,” Dylan said softly, pulling on Dean’s jacket. “Where’s the bathroom?”

 

“Can’t you wait until we get our bags?” Dean asked, watching all of the bags go by in front of him.

 

Dylan thought for a moment before nodding quickly. “Ye-- yeah, okay. When we get to Bobby’s, can we eat?”

 

“We might eat before we get there,” Sam said, quickly grabbing Dean’s bag, setting it down at his feet. “How hungry are you?”

 

Dylan shook his head. “I don’t know, I can’t really tell. I just have to pee.”

 

Dean sighed and looked up at Sam. “I’ll take him. Wait here, yeah?”

 

Sam nodded and began tapping his foot impatiently, waiting for his and Dylan’s bags to come by.

 

“Why didn’t you just go on the plane?” Dean asked, glancing down at Dylan.

 

Dylan shook his head. “I-- I don’t know, there were like, people everywhere and it looked so tiny and--”

 

“Yeah, I feel ya,” Dean nodded, looking around for the bathroom signs. “Okay, in here,” he said, cutting a couple of people off when he turned right. “You need me to go in with you?” he asked, leaning against the wall beside the door.

 

Dylan shook his head and pushed open the door, walking in. 

 

Dean sighed and shifted, looking across the terminal, smiling at the fact that he could still see Sam’s head above the crowd. He nodded and waited for Dylan to come back out. He looked up when the door open, expecting to see Dylan walk out, but he smiled apologetically when it was an elderly gentleman. He cleared his throat and waited a couple more minutes, smiling when Dylan walked out. “Okay, so I think we’re gonna get our bags and just…we’ll just get a cab to Bobby’s. Eat, sleep, go see Dad.”

 

“Okay,” Dylan nodded, looking up at Dean. “How far is Bobby from here?”

 

“Not far,” Dean replied, nodding over at Sam. “Got the bags?”

 

Sam nodded and leaned down, grabbing his bag. “Yeah. What’s the plan?”

 

“Cab to Bobby’s,” Dean said, picking up his suitcase. “We’ll just eat there.”

 

“When are we going to see Dad?” Sam asked, following behind Dean and Dylan.

 

“I was thinking tomorrow,” Dean replied. “I wanna get some sleep. You can go tonight if you want.”

 

Sam shook his head. “No, tomorrow is fine.” He yawned and pushed his hair back, glancing up at the large clock on the wall. “I’m just…glad that we’re here.”

 

Dean nodded and glanced back at Sam. “Yeah,” he agreed. “It feels better, being this close to him.”

 

* * * *

 

“How you boys feeling?” Bobby asked, pouring Dean a coffee. “You got here fast.”

 

Sam nodded. “Not a lot of people on the flight, surprisingly,” he said sarcastically. He took a bite of his toast, reaching out for Dean’s mug of coffee, earning a quick dirty look from Dean. 

 

“How’s it going, DJ?” Bobby asked, sitting down beside him. “School okay and everything?”

 

Dylan took a bite out of his sandwich, chewing slowly. “Okay,” he said softly, taking a drink of his milk. “I guess. I don’t really know.”

 

“You’re in high school next year, aren’t ya?” Bobby asked.

 

Dylan nodded. “Yeah. I’ll get to hang out with Danny more often.”

 

“And Danny is?” Bobby asked.

 

“Dyl’s best friend,” Dean answered. “Lives across the street. He’s a grade ahead of Dylan, couple of years older.”

 

Bobby nodded understandingly. “Got yourself a girlfriend, DJ?”

 

Dylan shook his head, slouching down in his chair. “I don’t really hang out with a lot of girls.”

 

Bobby nodded again. “Yeah, I hear that DJ.” He tried to smile, taking a drink of his beer. “You want me to take you up to bed?” he asked, pushing his chair back.

 

Dylan set his sandwich down and nodded, pushing his chair back. He gave his parents a wave and half a smile, following Bobby out of the kitchen and up the stairs. 

 

“I don’t want Dylan to see him,” Sam said quietly, once he was sure that Dylan couldn’t hear him.

 

“Why not?” Dean asked, ditching his coffee for a drink of Bobby’s beer. 

 

“I don’t want him to watch Dad die,” Sam whispered, staring down at the table. “I don’t want him to remember Dad like that.”

 

Dean stared at Sam before picking up Bobby’s beer again, gulping down the rest of the bottle. He sighed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, leaning back in his chair. “Dad’s not gonna die,” he said finally.

 

Sam snorted and rolled his eyes. “He’s not even awake, Dean. He’s in a goddamn coma.” He shook his head and pushed his chair back, standing up. “I just don’t want Dylan to see it.”

 

“Dylan wants to see him,” Dean pointed out, following Sam over to the sink, leaning against the counter. “And Dad would want him there.”

 

Sam looked at Dean, meeting his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak but he closed his eyes and looked away instead. He dumped the rest of his drink down the drain and brushed by Dean. “I’m gonna go to bed,” he said softly, hurrying through the kitchen, looking up the stairs as Bobby began making his way down.

 

“You okay Sam?” Bobby asked, moving over to the side. Sam shook his head and ran up the stairs, leaving Bobby just staring. “Dean?” Bobby called, going down the rest of the stairs. “What’d you do this time?”

 

Dean shook his head and sighed, opening the refrigerator for another beer. “You wanna take me to see my father, or what?” He reached over, grabbing Bobby’s keys.

 

Bobby raised an eyebrow, but had to smile a little when Dean tossed the keys over to him. 

 

* * * *

 

“I’ll be out here,” Bobby said to Dean, tipping his hat.

 

Dean nodded and opened the door, slowly walking inside. He took a deep breath and closed the door behind him, walking over to John’s bed. He bit his lip and sat down, hunched over, hands together on John’s bed. He studied his father carefully, wondering if this was what he had looked like years ago, when he was in his coma. He looked up, watching the machines that were keeping his father alive. “Hey Dad,” he said softly, clearing his throat. He smiled sadly. “We uh…we figured you weren’t gonna make it for Christmas so we decided to come to you.” He laughed softly and sat back in his seat, wiping at his eyes. “God, Dad,” he muttered, shaking his head. “A stroke? A stroke? That is what’s gonna do you in, huh? God, it better have been a fucking demonic stroke.”

 

Dean pushed himself up in his chair, leaning over John, studying his father. “Dad, can you hear me?” he asked softly, shifting in his seat. “If you can hear me, you need to wake up. Really, you need to wake up.” He sniffled and his eyes began to fill with tears. “This isn’t how you’re supposed to go out. You were supposed to outlive us all, you asshole.” He smiled weakly. “Sam doesn’t want Dylan to see you. Not like this.” He shook his head. “I did, but now…” he reached out, running his fingers gently over John’s face, “Dad, please just wake up. Please let us talk to you again.” He squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to cry. He wiped at his eyes and shoved his chair backwards, shaking his head. “Goddammit Dad!” he yelled. “You were supposed to be okay! You were supposed to stop hunting. You were just supposed to crash at Bobby’s. You weren’t supposed to die.” He finally began to sob and he wiped at his nose, fumbling for the door handle. He pulled the door open and stormed out.

 

Bobby quickly jumped up and glanced into the room, sighing at John and closed his eyes, nodding once before following after Dean.

 

* * * *

 

“He’s just…lying there,” Dean said softly, staring up at the ceiling.

 

Sam nodded, kissing Dean’s forehead, wrapping his arm around Dean’s bare shoulders. “I know,” he said softly. “I think he’s brain dead.”

 

Dean sniffled and his shoulders shuddered under Sam’s arm. “How--” he took a deep breath, “why didn’t you give up on me?”

 

Sam smiled weakly, sniffling. “Because I love you. Because I knew you could make it. Because you were never as worse as Dad is.”

 

Dean swallowed hard and shifted under the sheets, curling up on his side. “Sammy, Dad’s--”

 

Sam shook his head, interrupting Dean with a kiss. “I was wrong. He can make it.”

 

Dean shook his head. “I don’t think that he can. He’s practically brain dead, Sam. After everything…this is what he’s gonna die from. This is what’s gonna kill him.” He shook his head again, closing his eyes, resting his head on Sam’s chest. “He never…he’s not gonna wake up, is he?” he asked, voice breaking.

 

Sam squeezed his eyes shut and unwrapped his arm from Dean, pressing his palms into eyes. “No,” he said finally, all he could manage to get out with the lump in his throat.

 

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” Dean cried, rolling away from Sam, clutching the comforter in his hands. “He was supposed to come for Christmas. We were supposed to ask him to stop hunting. Not-- not this. Anything but this.” He began to sob into the sheets in his hands, shoulders shaking.

 

Sam swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat and rolled onto his side, away from Dean. He took a deep shaky breath, closing his eyes. “Dear God,” he muttered under his breath, not sure if Dean could hear him, “please let our father live. Please let our father live.”

 

Dean sniffled and stopped sobbing, keeping it all in, listening to Sam. His tongue came out to wet his lips and he closed his eyes. “Please God,” he prayed. “Amen.”

 

“Amen,” Sam echoed, opening his eyes.

 

* * * *

 

“So…what does he look like?” Dylan asked, looking up at Bobby.

 

“Well DJ,” Bobby said, taking a drink of coffee, “he looks…younger. Less wrinkles.”

 

“Yeah?” Dylan asked, before shoving a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. He chewed slowly, thinking. “Can he hear us?”

 

Bobby chewed his own cereal, nodding. “Yeah, I think so, DJ. I think it’s a good thing to talk to people when they’re in a coma, let ‘em know you’re still around.”

 

Dylan reached out, grabbing his glass of apple juice. “So do you that when people aren’t talking to him, do you think he feels lonely?”

 

Bobby smiled and shook his head. “I would doubt if John Winchester ever felt lonely a day in his life, DJ. Being alone, it’s sort of who he is. But I bet he knows, I bet he’s waiting for you and Sam to go see him.”

 

Dylan bit his bottom lip, studying the wall in front of him, taking another spoonful of cereal. “Is he going to die?” he asked finally, looking back over at Bobby.

 

Bobby let out a deep breath, taking another sip of coffee. “DJ, I’m not sure that I’m the one to answer th--”

 

“Do you think he’s going to die?” Dylan asked. “Forgetting what my parents want you to tell me, what do you think?”

 

Bobby sighed, reaching up to scratch his head. “DJ…Dylan…your grandfather is old.”

 

Dylan nodded and he looked up, meeting Bobby’s eyes. “So he’s on like, life support, right?”

 

Bobby nodded. “Right.”

 

“So until he wakes up, those machines are keeping him alive?” Dylan continued.

 

“I’d say so,” Bobby agreed. “Yeah, I think so.”

 

“Are Mom and Dad gonna take him off life support?” Dylan asked quietly, getting a spoonful of cereal. 

 

Bobby swallowed hard and shifted on his seat. “I uh…I don’t know, DJ. You’d have to ask them.”

 

“Ask them what?” Dean asked, walking into the kitchen, scratching underneath his t-shirt. 

 

“About taking Grampie off life support,” Dylan replied automatically, before he realized that maybe that’s not how he shouldn’t have answered the question. “I mean…uh…” he looked over at Bobby helplessly.

 

“We’re talking to the doctors today, Dylan,” Dean replied, “we’re gonna ask them what they think we should do.”

 

Dylan nodded and pushed his chair back, nodding his thanks to Bobby for the breakfast. “I’m gonna…can I go out back, Dad?” he asked.

 

“Sure,” Dean nodded, pouring a mug of coffee. “Watch yourself though, be careful back there.”

 

Dylan nodded and walked into the living room to grab his sneakers, coming back into the kitchen to slip them on. “When you go to the hospital, can I go with you?” he asked Dean, looking up at him.

 

“Your mom and I are talking about it, Dyl,” Dean said, moving around Dylan to sit down at the table. “Just go outside, ‘kay?”

 

Dylan nodded and opened the backdoor, stepping outside.

 

“Great kid,” Bobby murmured, looking over at Dean. “Sam asleep?”

 

Dean nodded. “Yeah.” He took a drink of his coffee, stretching in his seat. “Bobby, I-- if Dylan asks, I don’t want you to talk to him about this. Alright?”

 

Bobby stared at Dean for a moment before nodding. “Ye-- yeah, sure. Your kid. I get it.”

 

Dean nodded in appreciation, taking another drink of coffee. “We…we don’t know what we’re doing. Sam and I can’t really agree right now.”

 

Bobby nodded understandingly. “Hey, I get it. It’s not my place to tell DJ anything, really.” He pushed his chair back, standing up. “But maybe somebody should,” he continued angrily.

 

“Bobby,” Dean began to protest, but Bobby just cut him off with an angry glare.

 

“Maybe if you and Sam would talk to your goddamn kid, he wouldn’t have to come talking to me!” Bobby yelled. “You think I like having the kid ask me whether his grandfather is going to die? Talking to me about life support? He’s twelve years old for Christ sake, Dean, he’s never seen anybody die in his life! You and Sam deal with it the way you wanna deal with it, that’s fine, but from what I can tell, it ain’t the way Dylan wants to deal with it!”

 

Dean stood up quickly, shoving his chair back so fast it toppled to the floor. “I don’t know how to deal with it Bobby!” he yelled. “My mother died when I was four, I didn’t have a say in it, I didn’t have to watch it! My father is dying, he is lying in a hospital bed, brain dead, and I don’t know what to fucking do!” He slammed his coffee mug down onto the table, coffee splashing over the rim. “I want to keep him on! I want to keep him on the life support, I want to give him a chance. I want to give him the chance he gave me. But Sam…Sam…” he shook his head helplessly, walking away from Bobby. “Sam’s right,” he said, stopping in the living room. “Sam wants to take Dad off it, knows he isn’t gonna be the same even if he does wake up. Knows that Dad would just wanna die.” He wiped at his eyes, embarrassed to be crying in front of Bobby. 

 

“Dean,” Bobby said softly, stepping towards him.

 

Dean shook his head furiously. “I can’t let him go. I can’t let another parent die.” He began crying and turned away from Bobby. “He was supposed to stay here until Christmas,” he said quietly. “He was supposed to come visit us.” Tears were running down his cheeks when he turned back to face Bobby. “What if it had happened when he was on a hunt? He’d be all alone somewhere, in his truck. He’d be dead.” He wiped at the tears on his cheeks, looking past Bobby. “I was in a coma,” he said quietly, “and they wouldn’t let me go. Dad sacrificed everything for us, I’m supposed to give him another chance.”

 

Bobby stepped towards Dean, floorboards creaking beneath his feet. “You’re not supposed to do anything. You do what feels right. You do what John would want.”

 

Dean’s tongue came out and more tears sprung to his eyes. “I just wanna talk to the doctors,” he said finally, sniffling loudly. “Can you go wake up Sam? I’m gonna go talk to Dylan.”

 

“Sure thing,” Bobby nodded, waiting until Dean walked by him before turning, going up the stairs.

 

Dean stepped outside and quickly found Dylan, lying on the hood of an old truck. “Dylan,” he called quietly, careful of the ground under his bare feet. “What you thinking about?”

 

“Heaven,” Dylan answered, blinking a couple of times.

 

“Wow,” Dean said softly, climbing up onto the truck with him. “Deep.”

 

Dylan nodded. “That’s where Grampie will go, right?” he asked, finally looking over at his father.

 

Dean swallowed hard and lied back, shifting on the hood. “Yeah, of course,” he nodded, even though he wasn’t really sure. “That’s where we’re all gonna go.”

 

“Yeah?” Dylan asked.

 

Dean nodded. 

 

“What’s Heaven like?” Dylan asked, looking over at Dean. “Is it nice there?”

 

“I would think so, yeah,” Dean replied. “It would have to be. It is Heaven, you know. I bet it’s beautiful.”

 

“Yeah,” Dylan breathed. “Bobby said he didn’t know whether Grampie was going to die or not.”

 

“I don’t think any of us really know, Dylan,” Dean explained. “For sure, anyway. Not even the doctors.”

 

“But if we kept him on life support,” Dylan began, “we could keep him alive forever, right?”

 

Dean smiled weakly. “Yeah, but…we wouldn’t.”

 

Dylan sighed. “Daddy, I don’t want him to die,” he said, eyes filling with tears.

 

Dean shook his head. “Me either, Dylan.”

 

“But I don’t want him to stay in the hospital forever either,” Dylan said. “I don’t Grampie would want to either.”

 

Dean let out a deep breath. “Dylan, I…we don’t know. We’re gonna talk to the doctors, okay? We’ll see what they say.” He pushed himself up. “You can come with us. I think Grampie would wanna see you.”

 

Dylan sat up, looking over at Dean. “So…I mean…Dad, I don’t want Grampie to stay on life support if he’s never going to wake up.” He sniffled and wiped at his eyes, taking a deep breath. “I’m not sure if that’s what I’m supposed to feel though. Is it?”

 

Dean shook his head. “You’re not supposed to feel anything, Dylan. You just…feel what you think is right.”


	21. Chapter 21

Title: Look What Love Has Done - Volume 3 - Chapter 21

Pairing: Sam/Dean

Disclaimer: Not mine

Rating: R this chapter

Summary: Sam and Dean have to come to a decision about their father; once they're home, Dylan hears something that maybe he shouldn't have

Author's Note: Forget volume one, forget volume two; this is volume three 

 

twelve years, seven months and eighteen days old

 

Sam looked over at Dean sadly, wrapping his arm around Dylan’s waist. “This would be a lot easier if he had just told us what he wanted. If something like this ever happened.”

 

Dean nodded slowly, reaching up to rub at his eyes. “So what’s this again?”

 

“His CAT scan,” the doctor replied. 

 

“And what’s it show?” Dean asked.

 

“No appreciable intracerebral blood flow in either the internal carotid or posterior cerebral circulations,” the doctor replied quickly, before quickly smiling apologetically. “It basically means that he’s brain dead.”

 

Dean shook his head in disbelief. “There are really strokes that are that bad? I mean, people get strokes and they don’t even notice. My father gets one and it kills him, right off the bat? That’s not fair,” he said angrily. 

 

The doctor shook his head slowly. “No, it isn’t fair,” he agreed, “and I’m very sorry for your loss.”

 

“What can we do?” Sam asked, looking past Dylan at the doctor. “I mean, can we keep him on the life support?”

 

“I don’t want him on the life support,” Dylan spoke up before the doctor could reply. “I think that we should take him off.”

 

“Dylan, kiddo, I don’t think that you know what the means,” Sam said softly. “I don’t think you realize what will happen.”

 

Dylan looked up at Sam. “If we take him off and he dies…then I guess we kind of know that’s what was supposed to happen. But if he lives then we know that we’re supposed to save him.”

 

Sam shook his head. “Dylan, if we take him off, he won’t live. He’s brain dead, honey.” He kissed Dylan’s temple, pushing Dylan’s hair away from his face. 

 

Dylan sniffled and shook his head, pushing himself off of Sam’s lap, walking over to John’s bed. “But he’s still alive, right?” he asked, looking over at the doctor.

 

The doctor sighed and nodded down at Dylan. “Yes, he is. But it’s only the machines.”

 

“I heard about people,” Dylan began, reaching out to grasp onto John’s hand, “and when you take them off life support, it-- it like shocks them into making themselves live. It forces them to live on their own.” He looked over at Sam. “I don’t want Grampie to live on the machines, Mom. It’s not him.”

 

Sam nodded understandingly and reached over to Dylan, pulling him back over to his chair. “Dylan, we’re just gonna think about it, okay? Me and your dad.”

 

“I don’t get a say?” Dylan asked softly, still watching John, the machines sounding so loud in the room. 

 

Sam sighed and leaned down, kissing the back of Dylan’s head. “Dylan, it’s just--”

 

Dylan shook his head and yanked his arm out of Sam’s grip. “I want a say,” he interrupted.

 

“Only adults get a say, Dylan,” Dean explained. “You’re too young to make a decision like this. We know what you want, we’ll think about it, okay? You just gotta stay calm, okay? Be good.”

 

Dylan nodded and climbed back onto Sam’s lap, resting his head against Sam’s chest, watching the machine that was breathing for his grandfather. “Do you think he knows he’s dead?” he asked quietly, looking up at Sam.

 

Sam glanced over at Dean, who wasn’t looking back. He kissed the top of Dylan’s head, taking a deep breath. “I…I bet…” he closed his eyes, knee bouncing, taking a deep breath. “He’s probably already in Heaven, Dylan.”

 

Dean drew a sharp breath and looked over at Sam slowly. “Sam, don’t say that.”

 

“Why not?” Sam asked, looking over at Dean. “It’s true.”

 

“He’s not in Heaven, Sam,” Dean exclaimed, standing up angrily, “he’s right there! Okay? Stop talking about him like he’s gone already!”

 

“He is!” Sam cried. “Dean, he’s brain dead! He is gone.”

 

The doctor cleared his throat and nodded once. “I’ll leave you three alone.” He opened the door and stepped outside, nodding down at Bobby, who tipped his hat. He cleared his throat and stood up, walking over to the door. “You boys okay in here?” Bobby asked gruffly, trying not to look over at John in the bed.

 

Sam rubbed his eyes tiredly and nodded, waving his hand. “Fine,” he said softly.

 

Dean shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Whatever,” he muttered, sitting back down.

 

Bobby cleared his throat and nodded, looking over at Dylan. “You okay in here, DJ?”

 

Dylan nodded and shifted on Sam’s lap. “Yeah, I’m okay,” he answered softly. He looked over at the door, trying to smile. “Do you think he’s in Heaven, Uncle Bobby?” he asked.

 

Bobby watched Dylan carefully, glancing over at John again. “Uh…” he swallowed hard when Sam and Dean looked over at him expectantly, “I think it’s a nice thing to think, Dylan.” He smiled weakly. “Do you think he’s in Heaven, Dylan?”

 

Dylan looked over at John, thinking for a moment, before he finally nodded. “Yeah,” he said softly, “I do.”

 

Bobby nodded, tongue coming out to wet his lips. “Then he is.” He looked over at Dean, who was watching him tiredly and he nodded at him. “I’ll just be out in the hall,” he said, reaching out for the door handle, pulling the door closed behind him.

 

“He’s not dead,” Dean murmured angrily, glaring at Sam. “He isn’t. That is still our father ther--” he stopped talking and dropped his eyes, looking away from Sam. “That is still my father there, Sam,” he finished, eyeing Dylan, who didn’t seem to notice the slip. “He could still live.”

 

“Dylan, can you go out with Bobby for a few minutes?” Sam asked quietly, helping Dylan off his waist. “We have to talk alone.”

 

Dylan nodded and kept glancing back at John as he walked to the door, stepping outside.

 

Sam stood up quickly, shoving his chair back, glaring at Dean. “He is my father too, Dean!” he said, grabbing onto Dean’s shirt, “and I don’t want you to forget that. I get a say in this too.” He let go of Dean, shoving him back against his chair, walking away from him angrily.

 

“Sam, Dad--” Dean hovered close behind Sam, “I just…if we keep him alive, we still have a parent.”

 

Sam dropped his eyes and turned around slowly. “Dean, he isn’t much of a parent. He’s brain dead.”

 

“We never saw him anyway,” Dean offered quietly, trying to lighten the mood, even just for a second. “Sammy I just…I remember when Mom died. And it hurt. For a really long time, it hurt. I lost my mommy, you know? She was there and then she wasn’t and it’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

 

Sam cleared his throat and nodded, crossing his arms. “I know,” he breathed.

 

“Please don’t make me say goodbye to my father too,” Dean pleaded. “Please. Sammy, please. You don’t remember Mom. This is going to hurt a lot more than I think you know.”

 

“I know it’s going to hurt,” Sam said quietly, “but Dean, it’s going to hurt a lot more having to come here, having to see him like this,” he looked down at their father. “It’s not him anymore.”

 

Dean’s eyes filled with tears and he shifted on his feet, looking down at John. “Sam, that’s still our father.”

 

“No, it’s isn’t,” Sam insisted, cupping Dean’s cheeks, forcing him to look at him. “Dean…” his own eyes began to fill with tears and he blinked furiously, “that is not our dad. Our dad…is gone, Dean. That’ll never be him again. Even…even if he did ever wake up, by some miracle, he would never be the same. He’d be mentally challenged. We’d have to take care of him, more than we take care of Dylan. Our father would have never wanted that. You know it. Dylan knows it. I know it. Why can’t you just admit it?”

 

“Because I don’t want to be an orphan!” Dean yelled, jerking away from Sam’s hands. “We grew up without a mom, Sam! Dad was always there for us! Why are you just so eager to take him away?”

 

“I didn’t take him away!” Sam yelled back, reaching out for Dean again. “That stroke did. Dean…I know it’s hard, and I know that we’re going to miss him, but we will be okay. Mom and Dad will be together, finally. We just have to let him go,” he finished softly, leaning in to kiss Dean’s forehead.

 

Dean shook his head and tried to pull away from Sam, but Sam just kept him close. “Sam,” he sobbed, finally leaning into Sam’s chest, gripping at his arms, “Sammy, I can’t--” his voice broke and he squeezed his eyes shut, crying into Sam’s t-shirt. He tried to take a deep breath, sniffling loudly and he could feel his knees start to buckle.

 

Sam clutched to Dean and went down with him, their legs going beneath them, bent awkwardly, knees digging into the hard floor. Sam began to cry silently, tears running down his cheeks, fingers digging into the back of Dean’s head, holding him close. He sniffled and began rocking back and forth, closing his eyes, trying to forget where they were, just interested in taking care of Dean. 

 

Dean turned his head, sniffling loudly, trying to calm himself down. He began gnawing his lip, still rocking back and forth with Sam, staring at the wall. “He’s dead, isn’t he?” he asked softly, voice rough.

 

Sam let out a broken sob and nodded quickly, tears leaking down his face, ending up on the top of Dean’s head. “God, I’m gonna miss him,” he muttered quickly, sobbing, fingers digging into Dean, trying to hold him as close as he could. 

 

Dean nodded dumbly, drying tears causing his cheeks start to itch and he reached up, absentmindedly dragging his nails across the skin.

 

Dylan looked over at Bobby, who was leaning forward, watching the door. “Are you gonna miss him?” he asked, getting his hair out of his eyes. 

 

Bobby nodded and pulled his hat off for a moment, scratching the top of his head. He straightened up and put his hat back on, sniffling once. “John Winchester is a great man, Dylan. We’re lucky to know him.”

 

Dylan nodded slowly and wiped at his eyes, taking a deep breath. “I thought you didn’t like him,” he said eventually, swallowing hard.

 

Bobby smiled weakly and nodded. “Man drives me insane, DJ. But he’s a good guy.” He reached over, ruffling Dylan’s hair playfully.

 

Dylan looked back to the door before closing his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall. 

 

* * * *

 

Sam leaned down and ran his fingers over John’s face, trying to smile weakly at him. “Daddy,” he breathed almost silently. “It’s okay, Dad,” he continued. “You did a great job with us. We’re great people because of you. You helped give us Dylan.” He finally grinned, tears spilling over. “You did…after Mommy died, you took care of us. You never left us, you never hurt us. I’m sorry we fought so much. I should’ve been-- I could’ve been so different. I’m sorry if I ever hurt you. I didn’t mean to.” He sighed and wiped at his eyes. “I don’t know what else to say,” he admitted, clearing his throat. “I never wanted this to happen. I wish you could’ve…made it home. I wish that you had never left when Dylan was a baby. I would give anything to let you live again.” He bit his lip, nodding. “I…love you, Dad,” he said, voice breaking. “I love you. And I think I’m ready to let you go. I think you have to go.”

 

Sam swallowed hard, a lump in his throat, and a feeling of nausea in his stomach. “I thank you for everything you’ve ever done for us. I think that you’ve done everything you’ve ever needed to do. I think you can go now. I don’t know how or why you held on for these past few days, but I’m happy you did. Just enough time to get us here, huh?” He smiled, shifting on his chair. “We’ve always been at your beck and call, I guess.” He leaned down, taking a deep breath, inhaling his father’s scent. “I love you,” he mouthed silent, kissing John’s temple. He closed his eyes and pushed his chair back, walking over to Dean, wrapping his arms around him. 

 

Dean swallowed and rubbed Sam’s back, kissing his neck. “It’s okay, Sammy,” he breathed, closing his eyes, “it’s okay.”

 

Sam sobbed into Dean’s chest, shoulders trembling, the lump in his throat too big too speak anymore. 

 

“You wanna wait out in the hallway?” Dean asked, kissing Sam’s head. “You don’t have to be in here when it happens, Sammy.”

 

Sam nodded and pulled back slowly, glancing back at John one last time before opening the room door, stepping out into the hallway.

 

Dean took a deep shuddering breath and looked over at Dylan, running his fingers through his hair. “You gotta anything you wanna say to him, kiddo?”

 

Dylan nodded and pushed himself up out of his chair, walking over to John’s bed. He sat down on the edge, smiling down at his grandfather. “I love you, Grampie,” he said, reaching out to take John’s hand in his. “I’m really happy that John is my middle name. And when I have a family…I’ll make sure that they know all about you, because you’re the nicest person I ever met and they would’ve all been lucky to have known you. That’s what Bobby said, that we’re lucky to know you.” He closed his eyes quickly, tears running out. He took a deep breath, sniffling. “I think that maybe Mom and Dad are taking you off of this because I asked. So if you don’t live, I guess I’m sorry, ‘cause it would kind of be my fault. But if you don’t, I know that you’ll be happy in Heaven. With the angels.” 

 

Dylan leaned down a gave John a gentle kiss, straightening back up. “I’ll miss you a lot,” he said softly, voice breaking, “I really will. And I’ll probably cry for awhile and I’ll miss you for the rest of my life, but it’s okay.” He nodded once. “It’ll be okay Grampie. I’ll be okay. If you have to go, I understand.” He squeezed John’s hand and stood up slowly, John’s hand still in his. “I love you, Grampie,” he said again, stepping back from John’s bed, letting go of his hand.

 

Dean swallowed hard and stepped towards Dylan, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “You’re being very brave, Dylan,” he said quietly, clearing his throat. “Very mature.”

 

Dylan shook his head and walked away from Dean, going over to the door. “I’ll be out with Mommy. I’ll go get the doctor.”

 

Dean nodded and took a deep shaky breath, walking over to John’s bed. He closed his eyes and grasped onto John’s hand, sitting down in the chair. He cleared his throat and opened his eyes, looking around the empty hospital room. “Just you and me, Dad,” he said, studying his father. “Maybe just me, at this point. But you can hear me. Whether you’re here or with Mom.” He opened his mouth to continue on but had to stop, the tears coming just too much. “Everything you’ve done,” Dean said finally. “It was all for us. You never thought of yourself. You just wanted to make sure that me and Sam were safe. And you did. You did it. We made it. We could’ve died that night, we could’ve died thirty-six years ago in the fire, but you got us out. You gave me Sam. And I haven’t stopped looking after him since.”

 

Dean smiled and nodded at the memory, looking up at the ceiling. “I…I always thought that I’d be okay if you were gone. Because I grew up fine without Mom and you prepared me and Sam. But it’s harder than I thought, Dad,” he said, sniffling loudly. “You had a stroke. A stroke. I didn’t…I was always worried that you’d go out and get killed, but not like this. I never even thought of this. This-- this we couldn’t prepare for. No holy water, or silver bullets or shit like that. You had to go and do something like this. Is it your idea of a joke? Getting me on a plane? ‘Cause it’s not funny.” He wiped at his cheeks. “I’m gonna do my best with them, Dad. I have to protect Sam. Because you told me to. And Dylan…I’m gonna raise him the best I know how. Like you raised me. Everything for him.” He closed his eyes and bit his lip as he began to sob, trying to stay quiet. 

 

“I don’t know what to say, Dad,” Dean said once he got his voice back. “I don’t, I just-- I love you. And I’ll miss you. God, I’m gonna miss you. We were going to ask you to stop hunting. Live with us. We’d figure it out. And now I’ll never get to see you again. And it’s not fair. I wish that I could’ve saved you. I wish this was something we could’ve saved you from. Please be in Heaven, Dad,” he pleaded. “Please. Please be with Mom. Please be somewhere that we can find you. Where Dylan can find you.” He tried to smile before he let out another sob. “Dylan loves you so much. So much. He’s so proud that he’s your grandson. It makes him happy.” He sighed and looked away from John, taking several deep breaths, trying to calm down again. “You were the best father. Dylan’s entire life, I just wanted to take care of him like you took care of us. I hope I did okay. I hope I do okay. God Dad, just take care of us. Just make sure that he’s okay. Please keep Dylan safe.”

 

There was a knock at the door and Dean looked over, John’s doctor walked in, nodding apologetically, a nurse at his side. 

 

“I guess we gotta let you go, Dad,” Dean said softly, leaning down. “You fought so hard. You were the best father we could’ve had. And I love you. And Sam loves you. And Dylan. You-- you took care of us all. And I thank you for it.” He leaned down and kissed John’s forehead, trying to smile against his skin. “I love you,” he breathed. “I always will. I’ll never forget you. We never will.” He looked over at the doctor and pushed his chair back, tongue coming out to wet his lips. “You were a good hunter, John Winchester.” He swallowed hard and reached out, hand on the door knob. “But fuck, you were a great dad.” He finally began sobbing again as he stepped out into the hallway, pulling the door closed behind him. He slumped against the wall and slid down, sobbing into his arms, shoulders shaking. He hiccuped through his sobs, trying not to fall over onto his side and curl up into a ball.

 

Dylan unwrapped himself from Sam and walked over to Dean, sitting down on the floor beside Dean, before wrapping his arms around Dean, pulling him in.

 

Dean began to sob into Dylan’s arms, fingers clutching at Dylan’s back, tears soaking Dylan’s shirt. “I love you, Dylan John,” he managed to get out before he just continued crying. 

 

Dylan nodded and rest his head on Dean’s shoulders, letting his father cry to him.

 

Sam wiped at his face, hand trembling, looking over at Bobby. He bit his lip and dropped his head, staring down his feet. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He began picking at his jeans, still breathing deeply, jerking when he heard the door open again, a minute later. He couldn’t meet the doctor’s eyes and he looked over at Dean and Dylan, who were watching the doctor expectantly, both with bloodshot eyes. He straightened and was ready to push himself up, before Bobby stood up slowly, walking over to the doctor.

 

“Thank you,” Bobby said quietly, shaking the doctor’s hand. “Is there anything these boys need to do now?”

 

“A few forms need to be filled out,” the doctor replied, “but I believe they may have already have been. Funeral arrangements.”

 

“Kansas,” Sam said, speaking up. “He would want to be buried in Kansas. Is that possible?”

 

The doctor nodded. “We have people on call, who can transport the deceased. Just let us know when you’re ready.”

 

“Where does he stay until then?” Dylan asked, lifting his head.

 

“Here,” the doctor replied. “I’ll leave you alone then.” He nodded at Bobby and made his way down the hallway, his nurse walking out a few moments later.

 

Sam sighed and wiped at his nose, finally standing up. “I just wanna go to bed,” he said softly and he began slowly making his way down the hallway, limbs heavy.

 

* * * *

 

Sam poked at his food, glancing over at Dylan then Dean before looking back to his bowl. “We need a plan,” he said, voice rough, still poking at his food. “Should we fly to Kansas and then back home, or drive, or what?”

 

“I wanna fly,” Dylan said flatly. “I should get back to school soon.”

 

Sam nodded once and looked over at Dean expectantly.

 

“Yeah,” Dean agreed eventually. He reached out for his glass, fingers flexing around it before he just pulled his arm back. “He’s already on the way, yeah?”

 

Sam nodded. “Hospital took care of that. He’ll go to the funeral home once he’s there.”

 

Dean nodded and pushed his chair back, walking over to the sink. “Fly.” He dropped his dishes into the sink, turning back around. “We really gotta get Dylan home.”

 

“I’ll call and book us the…” Sam trailed off, taking a deep breath, “soonest flight. Red-eye. Cheap.”

 

Dean nodded and walked out of the kitchen, grabbing an old book before flopping down on the couch.

 

“So tonight?” Dylan asked, looking over at Sam.

 

Sam thought for a moment before nodding slowly. “Probably, Dyl. I want you to go pack. Hang out with Bobby.”

 

Dylan nodded and stood up, walking out of the kitchen and up the stairs, going to his room.

 

Sam looked over his shoulder, watching Dean on the couch, before turning back to his food. “We can’t really afford a funeral, you know,” he said.

 

Dean nodded. “I know.”

 

“Are we actually having one?” Sam asked, standing up slowly.

 

Dean shrugged. “He’s going to Kansas. I know that.”

 

“Then what?” Sam asked, walking into the living room. “We gonna burn him?” he asked in disbelief.

 

Dean shrugged again. “It’s cheap.”

 

“Dean!” Sam exclaimed. “This is our father you’re talking about!”

 

“And we can’t afford a funeral!” Dean yelled. “Maybe if we didn’t have to fucking fly everywhere, but I’m sorry, Sam. God. We’ll figure it out. I’ll dig up Mom’s grave and put him in there, if I have to. God knows she’s not in there.”

 

Sam swallowed hard and leaned against the wall. “Whatever. Fine. I’ll go get the tickets.”

 

“Fine,” Dean muttered, going back to his book.

 

Sam shook his head and walked over to Dean, snatching the book out of his hands. “Fuck Dean, if we’re going to burn him, we can do that here!”

 

“You’re the one who fucking suggested Kansas!” Dean yelled, quickly standing up. “Jesus Sam, what were you thinking?”

 

“I was thinking he’d wanna be near Mom!” Sam yelled. “We are from fucking Kansas, in case you can’t remember! That’s his home, of course that’s where he’d wanna be.”

 

Dylan looked up at Bobby, who was sitting down beside him on the top of the stairs. “They won’t stop yelling,” he said quietly.

 

Bobby nodded, sighing. “I know, Dylan. They’re just…upset. It’ll get better, once you’re back home. Less stress.”

 

Dylan nodded. “I don’t really wanna travel anymore. I just wanna go home and sleep.”

 

Bobby nodded understandingly. “Come on, I’ll help you pack. Then you can take a nap, okay?”

 

Dylan nodded and pushed himself up, following Bobby into his bedroom. 

 

Sam shook his head and walked away from Dean, going into the kitchen to grab his phone.

 

Dean sniffled and stared after Sam, dropping his eyes before dropping back down to the couch. “Whatever,” he muttered, shaking his head. He sighed and closed his eyes.

 

* * * *

 

Dylan blinked a couple times, fingers curling into the damp grass, ear pressed to the ground. 

 

Sam shifted beside him, reaching out to play with some of the freshly dug dirt, letting his run through his fingers.

 

“So he’s in there?” Dylan asked quietly, voice seeming so loud in the early morning.

 

Sam nodded slowly. “Yeah. He is. Well, his body, Dyl. He’s in Heaven now.”

 

Dylan nodded understandingly and looked up when Dean walked back over to them, sitting down a few feet away from the both. He sighed and leaned back, propped up by his elbows. 

 

Dylan watched his father for a moment before glancing over at Sam and finally just pushing himself up onto his knees, reaching out to the gravestone. “I thought Mary was your mom’s name,” he said, looking over at Sam.

 

Sam made a small noise and nodded once, reaching up to scratch at his neck.

 

Dylan frowned and ran his fingers over the stone. “Then why’s it say Winchester?” he asked, glancing over at Dean. 

 

Dean looked over at Sam, who was watching him carefully. Dean smiled weakly and sat up a little straighter. “That’s how they met,” he said quietly, smiling over at Dylan. “They…went to the same high school and they had the same last name. Everybody thought they were related. They were always partnered up, alphabetically.”

 

Dylan nodded and went back to studying the stone, not sure he believed it. “Are we going home now?” he asked, changing the subject, dropping his hand back to the ground.

 

Sam nodded. “Plane leaves in a couple of hours. We gotta leave soon.” He cocked his head slightly to the side. “You gonna say your goodbyes again?”

 

Dylan thought for a moment before shaking his head. “That’s okay.” He stood up and leaned down, kissing the gravestone before reaching his hand out to Sam. 

 

Sam sighed and took Dylan’s hand in his, pushing himself up. “Come on, Dyl,” he said quietly, too numb and too tired to even begin think about the lie that Dean had just told. They began walking over to Bobby’s truck, Bobby resting behind the wheel, watching the three of them.

 

Dean sighed and wiped at his eyes, smearing dirt on his cheek. He pushed himself up and leaned down, kissing the gravestone like Dylan had and fell in behind Sam and Dylan. 

 

Sam opened the truck door and climbed into the front, glancing back to watch Dylan, then Dean climb into the backseat.

 

“Everything’s in the back, yeah?” Bobby asked, straightening up.

 

Sam nodded, looking out the window. “Unless you threw it out while we were over there,” he replied, looking over at Bobby. “Thanks for driving us here, Bobby.”

 

Bobby nodded and began driving out of the graveyard. “Not a problem boys.”

 

Sam smiled his thanks and looked back out the window, able to watch Dylan and Dean in the reflection of the glass. He reached up, pressing his fingers to the glass, studying Dean. He sighed and shifted in his seat and turned out, watching out the window as the graveyard was finally out of sight. He shifted his eyes to Dylan, reaching out to fix Dylan’s hair. “You okay, Dyl?” he asked softly. Dylan nodded and Sam looked over at Dean, who was chewing on the end of his thumb, staring out the window. Sam studied him for a moment before sitting back down in his seat, watching out the windshield. 

 

* * * *

 

Sam stretched out in their bed, toes sticking out from under the sheets. He looked over at Dean, who was watching him back.

 

“Gotta get Dylan up,” Dean said softly, turning onto his side.

 

Sam nodded and pushed himself up on one arm, looking down at Dean. “I love you,” he said, leaning down to brush his lips against Dean’s cheek. 

 

Dean groaned softly and nodded, looking up at Sam. “Love you too,” he breathed, finally sitting up. He pressed his lips to Sam’s and reached down, pulling the sheets off of him. He sighed and slowly moved off the bed, feet dropping to the floor. “I gotta have a shower,” he murmured, walking over to the dresser.

 

Sam nodded tiredly and swung his legs off the bed, standing up. He raised his arms above his head, cracking his shoulders and neck. “I’ll go wake up Dyl,” he murmured, grabbing a t-shirt off of the floor.

 

Dean nodded once and thought for a moment, before reaching over to grasp onto Sam’s hand, gently pulling Sam over to him.

 

“Hmm?” Sam murmured, yawning softly, “yeah?”

 

Dean sighed and let go of Sam’s wrist, looking up at him. “We gotta tell Dylan,” he said finally.

 

Sam looked at Dean in confusion. “Tell him what?” he asked, shifting on the balls of his feet.

 

“Tell him…” Dean sighed again and trailed off, “about us.”

 

Sam bit the inside of his lip, sighing and leaning against the dresser. “What about us?”

 

Dean snorted and rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Sam, you know what about us. We have to tell him we’re brothers.”

 

Sam shook his head. “I’m not doing it. Not now. Not ever, but especially not now.”

 

“Sam, he deserves to know the truth,” Dean gritted angrily. “He is our son. He needs to know.”

 

Sam shook his head again. “No, Dean. I won’t tell him.” He turned and began to walk away, before Dean spoke up again.

 

“I’m telling him he’s not mine,” Dean said loudly.

 

Sam swallowed hard and glanced back at Dean, eyes narrowed. “You can’t do that.”

 

“I can,” Dean said, “and I will. You don’t wanna tell him that we’re brothers, that’s fine. That’s your secret too. But this is my secret. I think he deserves to know and I’m ready to tell him.”

 

“Why are you doing this?” Sam asked quietly.

 

“Because our father died,” Dean replied. “Because it finally hit me that I could die tomorrow, you could die tomorrow, we both could, and he wouldn’t know the truth. And there’d be nobody to tell him. I want him to know.”

 

Sam shook his head. “He just lost his grandfather, Dean; you want to tell him that he’s not yours? How can you do that to him?”

 

“Dylan’s a good kid,” Dean said, “smart. He knows you were pregnant with him, he knows we’re not normal. He can deal with this.”

 

Sam swallowed hard and sighed, reaching out for the door knob. “I’m not dealing with this,” he muttered, stepping out of the bedroom.

 

Dean nodded once and swallowed, looking back down to his dresser.

 

Sam rubbed at his eyes and began making his way down to Dylan’s bedroom, knocking on the door before pushing it open. “You awake?” he asked softly, stepping into the room. He frowned when he realized that Dylan’s sheets were pushed back and that Dylan was no longer in his room. He walked back down the hallway and through the living room and kitchen, knocking on the bathroom door. “Dyl, are you in there?” he called.

 

Dylan lifted his head from his knees, wiping at his eyes. “Leave me alone!” he yelled before he began to cry again.

 

“Dylan?” Sam asked. “Are you okay?”

 

“Leave me alone!” Dylan screamed, looking around for something to throw at the door.

 

Dean sighed and opened the bedroom entrance to the bathroom, looking down at Dylan. “What are you doing?” he asked, crouching down beside him.

 

Dylan glared at Dean in disbelief, shoulders shaking, face red. “Leave me alone,” he said quietly, voice rough as he rubbed at his eyes.

 

“What’s going on?” Dean asked gently, reaching out for Dylan, who just jerked away. “Dyl? Are you sick?”

 

Dylan pushed himself up and stumbled a bit as he pushed past Dean, walking into the bedroom.

 

“Dylan!” Dean yelled, standing up. “You have to talk to me!”

 

Dylan grabbed a picture off of the dresser and threw it to the floor. “Why? You’re not my father!”

 

Dean jerked back, mouth opening in surprise as he looked at Dylan. “Dyl--”

 

Dylan shook his head. “How could you not tell me?” he demanded, grabbing Sam’s watch off the dresser, throwing it across the room. He glanced back when Sam appeared in the doorway. “You both lied to me,” he cried, looking back at Dean.

 

“Dylan, I was going to tell you,” Dean said, stepping towards him. 

 

Dylan shook his head and stepped back, wiping at his eyes. “Whose am I? If you’re not my dad, who is?”

 

Sam dropped his eyes and reached out, clutching onto the doorframe. “How did you hear?”

 

“I was in the bathroom!” Dylan yelled, turning back to Sam. “I heard him. I heard you both. Why couldn’t you tell me? Whose am I?”

 

Dean took a deep breath and swallowed hard, walking over to Dylan. “You remember the name of the man who helped your mom get pregnant?”

 

Dylan nodded jerkily. “Ro- Rosier.”

 

Dean sighed. “Yeah.”

 

Dylan looked at Dean in confusion before realization hit and he began to cry even harder. He shook his head, wrapping his arms around himself. “It’s not true.”

 

“Dylan, you weren’t supposed to hear it through the bathroom door,” Dean said gently. “I was going to tell you.”

 

Dylan’s shoulders were shaking and he turned around, shoving past Sam.

 

“Where are you going?” Sam asked, following Dylan into the kitchen. “Dyl, you have to--”

 

“Shut up!” Dylan yelled, grabbing onto one of Dean’s boots, throwing it at the door. “I don’t have to do anything! Leave me alone!” He grabbed his sneakers and slipped his feet into them, unlocking the door.

 

“Dylan, I’m sorry,” Dean apologized quietly, walking over to him. “We didn’t always know. I found out when you were a baby. Sam found out when you were five…when Rosier attacked him.”

 

Dylan sniffled, his hand on the doorknob. “I wanna go,” he said, voice trembling.

 

“Where?” Dean asked, taking another step towards him. 

 

Dylan yanked on the door and stepped out into the porch, before opening the second door and going outside.

 

“Dylan, get back here,” Sam said, following after him. “Where are you going?”

 

Dylan didn’t answer, didn’t turn around, just continued down the driveway.

 

“Dylan!” Sam yelled. “Stop!”

 

“I hate you!” Dylan yelled, stopping by the road. “Both of you! You lied! That guy was a demon, and I’m his son! I’m a demon!”

 

“Dylan, no, you’re not,” Dean said, stopping a few feet ahead of Sam. “Dylan, you’re not a demon. Now come on, let’s go inside and talk about this.”

 

Dylan shook his head. “You’re not my dad,” he said, voice rough. “I don’t have to listen to you.”

 

A sinking feeling was growing in the pit of Dean’s stomach and he dropped his eyes, tears running down his cheeks.

 

“Dylan, he is your father,” Sam said angrily, “and you will listen to him.”

 

“Whose gonna make me?” Dylan asked, turning back around, starting off down the sidewalk. “I don’t know who I am. I’m a demon. And you never told me. You let me think that I was like him, that I looked like him, like I got something from him! I didn’t get anything from him! Grampie wasn’t even my grandfather!”

 

“That’s not true!” Dean yelled, stepping forward before he realized what he said and he stared at Dylan in disbelief. 

 

Dylan swallowed hard, staring back at him. “What do you mean?” he asked quietly, taking a step towards him. “He was your dad. He can’t be my grandfather. Not-- not really. Not biologically.”

 

Sam and Dean looked at each other before Sam stepped towards him, reaching out for him. “Dylan, we-- we were going to tell you.”

 

“Tell me what?” Dylan demanded. “How can Grampie still be m--” he cut himself off and looked down at the ground for a moment. “No. No, no, that’s not-- he can’t be your dad too. He can’t be. That’s--”{

 

“Dylan, it’s not what you think,” Sam said, taking another step towards him. “It’s--”

 

“You said they had the same last name,” Dylan said softly, looking up at Sam. “You lied. They didn’t. They were married.”

 

Sam swallowed hard before nodding jerkily. 

 

“They had Dad,” Dylan continued on, watching Sam for confirmation.

 

Sam nodded once. “Ye-- yeah, they did.”

 

“But she was your mother too,” Dylan finished softly, eyes going wide. “You’re brothers.” More tears filled his eyes and he shook his head. “You can’t be brothers. That’s not right, that’s illegal, that’s--”

 

“Dylan, please,” Dean pleaded. “Please let us explain this to you. Please come inside.”

 

Dylan shook his head. “I’m not going anywhere with either of you.” He wiped at his eyes, staring at his parents defiantly.

 

“You’re still my son,” Sam said, reaching out for Dylan, “and you’re coming inside.”

 

Dylan stepped back, almost stumbling on the sidewalk. “My parents are fucking brothers.” He shook his head. “That’s disgusting.” His shoulders began shaking as more tears spilled over. “That’s-- that’s--” he swallowed hard and turned around, storming down the sidewalk.

 

“Dylan!” Sam yelled as he and Dean began following him. “Come back!”

 

“Shut up!” Dylan screamed. “Shut up, shut up, shut up!” He began running, feet pounding on the ground.

 

“Shit,” Dean muttered, running after Dylan, Sam a couple of feet behind him.

 

Dylan ran as fast as he could, turning the corner on the sidewalk, feet skidding a couple of inches, his parents catching up. 

 

An ache was starting in Dean’s ankle and he began to run with a slight limp, but he kept running, determined to get Dylan back. “Dylan!” he yelled, reaching out. “Stop it!”

 

Dylan glanced back at Dean and finally tripped on the sidewalk, reaching his arms out as he fell, crying out as he hit the ground.

 

Dean quickly stopped and dropped to the ground beside him, reaching out to Dylan. “Are you okay?” he asked, quickly examining him. “Dyl?”

 

Dylan sniffled and nodded, rubbing one of his wrists. “I’m fine,” he muttered, pushing himself up with his good wrist. He pushed by Dean, head down as he began to storm back in the direction of their house.

 

Dean watched Dylan walk away, tears filling his eyes and he sniffled, wiping at them.

 

Sam turned and looked after Dylan, making sure he was in fact going towards their house. He sighed and walked over to Dean, shifting in front of him. “You okay?” he asked softly.

 

Dean looked up at Sam in disbelief, before shaking his head slowly. “Fuck off,” he muttered, walking by Sam.

 

Sam swallowed and began to follow after Dean, staring down at his bare feet. “Dean, I’m sorry.”

 

Dean shook his head. “I should never have brought it up. I just…what the hell did I do?”

 

Sam shook his head. “It’s not your fault, Dean. He-- he was in the bathroom, how the hell were we supposed to know?” They turned the corner and Sam looked ahead, watching Dylan turn into their driveway. “He knows the truth,” he said quietly, shaking his head in disbelief. “I…thought I’d feel better about it.”

 

Dean snorted and wiped at his eyes. “I messed it up. I…I shouldn’t’ve brought it up and now he knows. He found out…he heard us, Sam.”

 

Sam wiped at his eyes and nodded. “I know.” He sighed and looked over at Dean, who was staring ahead. “We have to talk to him.”

 

“He won’t talk to us,” Dean said, turning into their driveway. “Didn’t you hear him? I’m not his dad, he doesn’t have to do what I say. And he hates us both, so…” He walked up the steps and opened the porch door, stepping inside before opening the door to the kitchen.

 

Sam bit his lip and took a deep breath, sniffling. “I’m gonna…make breakfast,” he said, going to the refrigerator.

 

Dean nodded and kept on walking, turning into their bedroom. He walked over to the broken picture frame and sighed as he leaned down to pick it up, setting the picture and the frame on the dresser, picking up the small pieces of glass.

 

Sam scratched at his head and dumbly grabbed a couple of eggs in his hand, walking over to the counter.

 

Dylan climbed back into his bed and pulled his sheets up, wrapping his arms around his pillow. He began rocking back and forth, eyes closed, tears still leaking out. He sniffled and shifted, trying to take a deep breath.

 

Dean dropped the pieces of the glass into the trash can in the garbage and glanced at himself in the mirror, shaking his head at his bloodshot eyes and tear stained cheeks. He looked away from himself and took a deep breath before sitting down and curling up on the bathroom floor, where Dylan had been sitting earlier. He closed his eyes and curled his fingers, shifting on the floor.

 

* * * *

 

Dylan scratched King Chuck, who had fallen asleep in his bed. He sighed and shifted, getting closer to the dog. “You’re sort of all I got now, Chuck.” He tried to keep more tears from springing to his eyes. “If I run away, will you come with me?” He looked up when he thought he heard someone outside his bedroom door. “I am not coming out!” he yelled. King Chuck’s head jerked and his eyes opened, looking up at Dylan.

 

Sam sighed and shifted a couple more times before finally stepping away from Dylan’s bedroom door, walking back up the hallway. 

 

Dean looked up as Sam passed in front of him, shifting on the couch. “He’s not coming up, Sam,” he said quietly, looking back towards the television. “It’s almost been a day and he’s still only come out for the bathroom. Just…get over it.”

 

“Well how long is he gonna stay down there for?” Sam asked loudly. “He has to fucking come up eventually!”

 

“Don’t yell at me!” Dean said, pushing himself up. “Go fucking yell at him if you wanna yell at somebody!”

 

“This is all your goddamn fault, Dean!” Sam yelled. “I’m not gonna go fucking yell at him for something you did!”

 

Dean pushed himself up off the couch and walked over to Sam, shoving him lightly. “I didn’t want him to hear it, Sam! I wanted to tell him myself. You fucking know that.”

 

Sam snorted and rolled his eyes. “He knows everything now, Dean, because you couldn’t your goddamn mouth shut.”

 

“He deserved to know!” Dean shouted.

 

“Not like that!” Sam yelled back. “Now he hates us.”

 

“He was going to anyway, Sam,” Dean said, finally done shouting, “no matter how we told him. Okay? How would you feel?”

 

Sam shook his head. “It’s not-- Dean, how are we supposed to explain it to him if he won’t even talk to us? What, we’re just supposed to sit and wait for when he decides, if he decides, to come out of his room? Dean, I want to talk to him now.”

 

“But that’s not our choice right now,” Dean said sadly. “It’s his. And I’m willing to wait for him to trust us enough to leave his room.”

 

“Well I’m not,” Sam snapped, looking past Dean. “We’re his parents, we should be able to tell him what to do.”

 

Dean looked down at the floor. “I’m not his parent, remember?” he said eventually. “And now he knows it.”

 

“Dean, that’s not true,” Sam said quickly, reaching out for Dean, who just jerked away from him. “It’s-- it doesn’t matter, right? It never did. He has to know that.”

 

“And if he doesn’t?” Dean asked. “We’re brothers. Fine. That never affected we raised him, or who he is. But I’m not actually his father and he’s right, he is a demon. Or fallen angel. At least half of one. I don’t know what that means yet, but it has to mean something.”

 

Sam shook his head. “It doesn’t mean anything. It can’t. We’d know by now.”

 

Dean sniffled and wiped at his eyes. “I just…maybe we should change.”

 

“Change what?” Sam asked, confused.

 

“The way we live,” Dean replied, “the way we are. Maybe I shouldn’t stay here for awhile.”

 

“What?” Sam asked in disbelief. “Are you serious? You want to leave? Why? You’re the one who wanted to tell him all of this, Dean.”

 

“And I was wrong,” Dean stated. “He needs time to adjust to this. A lot of time, probably. The last thing he probably wants to see right now is us, together. Now that he knows. And I’m the guy that should go, since--”

 

“Since what?” Sam demanded. “Since you don’t belong here? Because you’re not really his dad? Bullshit Dean, you’re running because you can’t handle this. You’re the one whose waiting for him to come out of his room. But I guess you’re not gonna be here when he does, huh?” He shook his head, walking by Dean. “You’re an idiot.”

 

“I know, Sam,” Dean agreed, following behind him. “That’s why we’re in this situation. I just don’t want him to be mad at me.”

 

Sam nodded understandingly. “I know. I just…I should’ve let you tell him. Well, it wouldn’t have mattered, but I should’ve told you it was okay.” He looked away from Dean for a moment, blinking furiously. “I’m gonna go to bed, okay?”

 

Dean nodded and reached out, linking fingers with Sam, walking with him into the bedroom.

 

“Please don’t leave,” Sam pleaded softly, glancing back at Dean, closing the door behind them. “I need you here right now.” He sat down on the bed and sniffled, staring at the floor. “I lost my dad. I just lost my son. I can’t lose you too.”

 

Dean nodded and knelt down in front of Sam, hands on Sam’s legs, leaning up to kiss him gently. “I won’t,” he whispered, moving his lips to Sam’s cheek. “I promise.” He pulled back, meeting Sam eyes before leaning in once again.

 

Sam sighed and leaned into Dean, clutching at his shoulders, keeping him close. “I love you,” he said quietly, before nipping at Dean’s lips.

 

Dean stood up slowly, pulling off his shirt as he did, looking down at Sam. 

 

Sam shifted on the bed, pushing himself back, watching Dean all the while. He fumbled for the hem off his shirt, swallowing hard when Dean began crawling up the mattress, moving between his legs, licking his lips. He abandoned trying to get his shirt off and reached out for Dean, pulling him in closer. “I’m scared Dean,” he admitted softly, meeting Dean’s eyes. “What if he hates us?”

 

Dean swallowed hard and shook his head. “He can’t. He won’t.” He leaned down, hands on either side of Sam’s head, kissing him again. “He won’t.”

 

Sam nodded eagerly and leaned up, worming his hands in between them, pushing down at this sweats. He gasped once his dick was free of the fabric and wrapped his arms around Dean’s shoulders, pulling him down onto him. “I-- in me,” he pleaded, working his hips against Dean. “Please.”

 

Dean nodded and pushed himself up just enough to reach over to the nightstand, swallowing hard when he saw Sam’s watch on the floor, broken from Dylan throwing it against the wall. He sighed and sat up, leaning down to grab it. 

 

Sam sat up and looked at the watch in Dean’s hand, rolling his lips into his mouth, dropping his eyes. He reached over and grabbed his watch, studying it. He sat up and pulled his pants back up as his feet dropped to the floor. He looked over at Dean before standing up, adjusting his pants and dropping his watch back onto their dresser.

 

“Where are you going?” Dean asked, straightening up when Sam walked out of the bedroom.

 

“Just a sec,” Sam said quietly, walking through the house, going down the hallway to Dylan’s door. He knocked lightly, leaning against the door.

 

“I don’t want to talk to you,” Dylan said, annoyed, lifting his head off the pillow.

 

“I need to take the dog for a walk,” Sam explained, moving his hand to the doorknob. “Wanna let him out, please?”

 

Dylan rolled his eyes but sat up anyway, walking over to the door, the dog jumping off the bed right behind him. He opened the door just enough for King Chuck to move through before slamming it closed again.

 

Sam sighed and watched the dog run up the hallway before turning back to the door. “You wanna come with?”

 

Dylan sat back down on his bed, head cocked, staring a the door in disbelief. “Fuck off.”

 

“Dylan, I’m not gonna let you talk to me like that,” Sam said, closing his eyes as he began to turn the doorknob.

 

“Don’t come in here!” Dylan yelled, jumping off the bed. “I don’t wanna see you!”

 

Sam pushed the door open, looking at Dylan. “Dylan, come with me.”

 

Dylan shook his head. “I don’t wanna talk to you.”

 

“We don’t have to talk,” Sam offered. “I just…” he swallowed hard and stepped into Dylan’s room, “please don’t hate us for this Dylan,” he pleaded quietly. “Please. Don’t hate us.”

 

Dylan let out a deep breath, staring at Sam before finally shaking his head. “I don’t hate you. I just don’t wanna be around you.”

 

“Dylan, that’s the same thing,” Sam said, stepping further into Dylan’s room. “How long? Are you ever gonna wanna be around us again?”

 

Dylan shrugged. “Maybe not. But I don’t hate you.” He sat back down on his bed, looking up at Sam expectantly. “You can leave now.”

 

Sam turned to leave the room before he stopped, shaking his head, biting down on his lip. “You know what Dylan?” he turned back around to face him. “You’re an ungrateful little brat. After everything we’ve ever done for you, you just--”

 

“You’re brothers!” Dylan yelled, standing up again. “Don’t you get that? Don’t you think I deserve a bit of time after hearing that? You’re a fucking idiot Mom--”

 

“Don’t talk to me like that, Dylan” Sam snapped.

 

“If you think that I can just get over that,” Dylan continued, ignoring Sam’s comment. “Why can’t I just have some time alone?”

 

“Do I think that you deserve it, Dylan?” Sam repeated. “No, I fucking don’t. You ran when you found out, you screamed and swore at us, you called us names. You don’t deserve anything right now. You don’t think that we deserve some goddamn respect right now?”

 

“No!” Dylan yelled. “I don’t. You fucking lied to me my entire life about everything. I don’t even know who I am anymore or what the hell you two are.”

 

“We’re your parents, Dylan,” Sam replied, “and that should mean something to you. When I was growing up, I never liked my father, Dylan. But I respected him because he was my father. You should do the same.”

 

“What-- what do you mean you never liked Grampie?” Dylan asked quietly, looking up at Sam. “Why not?”

 

“Because he didn’t listen to me, Dylan,” Sam answered, swallowing hard. “I didn’t want to hunt. I didn’t want any of it. I wanted to be normal. I wanted to go to school and make friends and be a kid, but I wasn’t allowed. When I left for university, Dad told me that I could never come back. I didn’t speak with him for four years. I don’t want that to happen to us. I really don’t.”

 

“You never told me that,” Dylan said.

 

Sam shook his head. “I didn’t want you to not like him for it. But I still loved him Dyl, I still talked to him. I know that we should’ve told you, but-- but you would’ve reacted like this earlier. We just…wanted to wait until you were older.”

 

Dean shifted in the shadows of the hallway, listening to Sam and Dylan. 

 

“Is Dad mad at me?” Dylan asked, looking around before sitting down on the floor.

 

Sam shook his head, sitting down in front of him. “Why would he be?”

 

Dylan swallowed hard and wiped at his eyes. “Because of the things I said to him…I said he wasn’t my father. I didn’t mean it. I don’t care about that.”

 

“He’s not mad,” Sam said. “I think he might be a little upset, but I think he understands why you said it.”

 

Dylan wiped at his eyes again, drawing his knees up to his chest. “I didn’t mean to make him upset. I just-- I was mad. I didn’t want to hurt him. I still think of him as my father.”

 

Dean let out a quiet sigh of relief, leaning against the hallway wall.

 

“Good,” Sam said softly, smiling weakly. “That’s…I think that’s what matters.”

 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you either,” Dylan said, looking up at Sam. “I just…why did you do it? Why did you have to be brothers?”

 

Sam sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t know. I just…he came to get me, at Stanford, and I fell in love with him.” He shifted, picking at the carpet. “I’m sorry.”

 

Dylan rest his head on his knees, looking up when he heard Dean in the hallway. “You can come in,” he said, causing Sam to turn.

 

Dean swallowed hard and looked into the room sheepishly, before stepping inside. “Hi.”

 

Dylan sniffled and shifted on the floor. “I’m sorry for what I said to you, Dad.”

 

Dean shrugged, sitting down beside the two of them. “It’s okay.”

 

“No, it isn’t,” Dylan insisted. “I was really…I wasn’t nice.”

 

“It’s okay, Dylan,” Dean said again, reaching out to ruffle Dylan’s hair gently. “I’m okay.”

 

Dylan nodded. “I…Grampie knew it all, didn’t he?”

 

Dean sighed and nodded. “Yeah, he did. But he-- we asked him not to tell.”

 

Dylan nodded and shifted again, lying down on the floor, curled up. “I’m just tired.”

 

“We’ll-- we’ll leave you alone then,” Sam said, pushing himself back up. “You’re right, you need the time.”

 

Dylan nodded thankfully and closed his eyes, shifting on the floor.

 

* * * *

 

Dylan pushed open the bedroom door and walked in, closing the door behind him. "Dad? Mom?"

 

Sam shifted under the sheets and mumbled in his sleep.

 

"Are you guys awake?" Dylan asked softly, stepping further into the room.

 

"I am," Dean said softly, yawning loudly. "You okay?"

 

Dylan nodded and walked over to the bed, looking down at Dean. "I don't really wanna sleep alone anymore. Can I sleep with you?"

 

Dean smiled faintly and nodded, moving over on the mattress. "You can always sleep with us, Dyl."

 

Dylan looked over at Sam as he climbed into the bed, pulling the sheets up after him. "I still don't like it," he admitted, shifting and settling in.

 

Dean let out a deep breath and nodded in the dark. "Okay."

 

"And I probably won't for awhile," Dylan continued.

 

Dean nodded again. "Okay."

 

"But..." Dylan sighed and nodded, curling into Dean's chest, "I'm sorry for the things I said to you. And I still love you both."

 

Dean smiled and kissed the top of Dylan's head. "Dylan, I’m gonna tell you the same thing I told our father…thirteen years ago. We didn’t expect you to accept it at all, let alone right away. We just wanted you to know. That was all that mattered. That's all we ever wanted. We just...we waited too long and we did it the wrong way."

 

Dylan sighed and nodded, shifting closer to Dean. "It's okay, Daddy. I'm just gonna...sleep on it." He yawned loudly and closed his eyes.

 

* * * *

 

Dean stirred under the sheets and yawned softly, legs stretching before he curled back up onto his side, eyes finally opening. He smiled at Dylan, reaching out to gently brush Dylan’s hair off of his forehead. 

 

Dylan groaned softly in his sleep and shifted, fingers flexing around the comforter. His mouth opened in a loud yawn and his eyes moved before they finally opened. He blinked a couple of times before he finally focused on Dean. “What time is it?” he asked softly before yawning again. 

 

“I didn’t mean to wake you up,” Dean apologized, rolling onto his back.

 

Dylan shrugged and pushed himself up, looking over Sam to the clock. “Do I have to go to school today?” he asked, lying back down. 

 

Dean chuckled softly and nodded. “That would be nice.”

 

Dylan made a face and groaned. “I don’t wanna.”

 

“You haven’t gone for the past two days, Dyl,” Dean pointed out, “and you missed a lot of time when we were at Bobby’s. I want you to go. It’s Friday, anyway.”

 

Dylan nodded. “Can we go out for breakfast? I want McDonald’s.”

 

“Sure thing kiddo,” Dean agreed. “Sounds good.” He smiled and leaned over, kissing Dylan’s forehead. “How was your sleep?”

 

“Okay,” Dylan nodded. “I just…I don’t-- am I allowed to ask…about you and Mom?”

 

“You can ask whatever you want, Dyl,” Dean replied. 

 

Dylan swallowed and nodded once. “I just don’t get how…brothers could…do that.”

 

Dean smiled understandingly. “I probably wouldn’t get it if I-- if I didn’t do it. I just…fell in love with him. And I hid it for a long time, for more than five years. And then he fell for me. It just-- it wasn’t supposed to be anything, you know? We were never going to be more than brothers who--” he cleared his throat and looked at Dylan, who nodded understandingly. “But then we were in Fort Worth. And Rosier touched Sam’s stomach and seven weeks? Seven weeks later we were at Bobby’s, finding out for sure that Sam was pregnant. Everything changed. We became more than that, because we had to, because we had to take care of you. It all became about you. For you.”

 

“When did you find out I wasn’t yours?” Dylan asked, rolling onto his side, hands held to his chest. 

 

“You were nine months old,” Dean replied. “A demon told me. And I didn’t believe it, until you were three years old and made a gun float with your mind.” He smiled weakly. “I never told Sam. He found out when you were five.”

 

Dylan swallowed hard and shifted, looking up at Dean. “What Grampie think?”

 

Dean shrugged. “I doubt he was ever happy with it. He probably died…wishing we were different. But he loved us. And he loved you. And family was all that was ever important to him. He dealt with it. I hope you can too.”

 

Dylan nodded as he yawned again, rolling onto his back, arching off the bed as he stretched. “I just…you guys are my parents, right? If I didn’t know you and I knew that you were brothers I would think it was really wrong. I was just…upset when I heard.”

 

Dean let out a breath and nodded once. “It’s okay to be upset today too. And tomorrow. Hell, it’s probably okay to be upset for awhile. But we’re your parents Dylan, we just want you to love us.”

 

Dylan pushed himself up and leaned down, kissing Dean’s cheek, wrapping an arm around Dean’s neck. “I still love you, Dad, don’t worry."

 

Dean smiled and patted Dylan’s back. “I’m just really happy that you do.”


	22. Chapter 22

Title: Look What Love Has Done - Volume 3 - Chapter 22

Pairing: Sam/Dean

Disclaimer: Not mine

Rating: R this chapter

Summary: Danny tells Dylan a secret; a girl asks Dylan for help with studying.

Author's Note: Forget volume one, forget volume two; this is volume three 

 

 

thirteen years, four months and twenty-nine days old

 

“Why is Todd even letting him drive?” Dean asked, looking over at Dylan.

 

Dylan shrugged and glanced out the window when they heard another loud screech from across the street. “I don’t know. ‘Cause if he didn’t let him, he’d do it anyway. At least now he can watch him.”

 

Dean smiled and nodded, cringing when he heard Todd yelling. “He’s…he’s not really that bad, is he? This is like, a show for the neighbors, right?”

 

Dylan shrugged. “I guess I’ll find out later.”

 

“What’s later?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow suspiciously. 

 

“Well, Danny’s gonna drive me home,” Dylan replied, shifting in his seat. “Sometime. Maybe today,” he finished quietly.

 

Dean’s jaw dropped. “Uh, today? Hell no! That kid’s out there running shit over. Your mom can drive you home. Danny too, if you really have some strange urge to ride in a car with him.”

 

“Dad, he’s really not that bad,” Dylan whined. “Come on. He’s not going to crash or anything.”

 

“He’s not even sixteen yet,” Dean pointed out, leaning back in his chair. “Him driving you, him driving anybody, actually, would be illegal. No go. We’ll be picking up from school…everyday this year, because that way, no Danny until he’s sixteen.”

 

“Dad, c’mon,” Dylan said, closing his eyes for a moment when Danny honked the horn loudly. “Whatever. Fine. Pick me up.”

 

Dean smiled and reached out, picking up his glass of milk. “Dylan, he’s not sixteen. He’s not driving you anywhere until he’s sixteen. Simple enough.” He raised an eyebrow, looking over at Dylan expectantly. 

 

“I’m gonna go hang over at Danny’s until you’re ready to take me to school,” Dylan said, pushing his chair back from the table. He walked over to the door and slipped his feet into his sneakers, waving before he stepped outside, pulling the door closed behind him.

 

Sam yawned loudly as he pushed open the bathroom door, walking out into the kitchen. “What happened to Dylan?” he asked, looking around.

 

“I think he’s hanging out in Danny’s driveway until we’re ready to drive him to school,” Dean replied, taking another drink of milk.

 

“Oh,” Sam said simply looking out the window, watching Dylan across the street. “Is that Danny practicing again?” He cocked his head to the side, still watching. “He seems to be getting better.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes when he heard Dylan and Todd shouting across the street and Danny honking the horn. “Yeah, okay Sam.” He smiled and shook his head. “Dylan wants to drive with him.”

 

“Uh, where?” Sam asked, walking away from the sink. He pulled out his chair and sat down, reaching over to grab Dean’s piece of toast. “I don’t want him on the highway with him or anything.”

 

“Home from school,” Dean replied. “Or to school. Or something.”

 

Sam thought for a moment, chewing on his toast slowly before he just jerked a shoulder. “I don’t know. We drove more than once before we were sixteen.”

 

“Yeah, that’s sort of my point,” Dean said, but he couldn’t help his smile. “I know what an idiotic fifteen-year-old can do with a car.”

 

Sam smiled and leaned over, cupping the back of Dean’s neck, pulling him in for a quick kiss. “I don’t think Danny’s gonna try and put the moves on Dylan though.”

 

Dean laughed loudly and shook his head. “God, that’d be hilarious.” He pushed his chair back and stood up, leaning down to kiss the top of Sam’s head. “So when you gonna be ready to go?”

 

Sam shrugged. “Gotta get dressed. Fifteen minutes, at the most.”

 

“I’m gonna go across the street,” Dean said, setting his dishes down in the sink. “Try and convince Todd to buy Danny a bus pass.”

 

Sam smiled and nodded, taking another bite of his toast. “Sure thing.”

 

Dean walked out the door and walked down the porch steps, watching Dylan and Todd across the street, Danny trying to pull back into the driveway. 

 

“Hey Dean!” Todd called, waving. “Danny, stop for a sec, okay?”

 

Danny sighed and rolled his eyes, putting the car into park.

 

Dean jogged across the street, smiling at Todd. “How’s it going, Todd? Hey, Danny.”

 

“Hey Mr Winchester,” Danny said, putting the car back into reverse.

 

“Dean, please,” Dean said, wrapping an arm around Dylan’s shoulders. “Your mom doesn’t seem to have the issues with Danny driving you that I do.”

 

Dylan grinned, watching Danny pull in. “That’s a change,” he murmured. 

 

Dean smiled and nodded. “So…illegal or not, I’m guessing it’ll happen.”

 

“Hey Danny!” Dylan called, running up to the car. “My dad said you can drive me home from school sometime.”

 

“Awesome!” Danny exclaimed, shoving one hand out of the window, giving Dylan a high five.

 

“Both hands on the wheel, Danny!” Todd cried, walking over to the car. “Eyes ahead.”

 

Danny rolled his eyes again but finally turned off the ignition, smiling up at his father. “Done. And I didn’t hit anything.”

 

“This time,” Todd muttered, opening the car door. “Okay Danny, out of the car. It’s almost time for you to leave for school. Go get changed.”

 

Danny climbed out of the car and Dean smiled, realizing that Danny was still wearing his pyjamas. “I’ll talk to you later, Dylan,” he said, waving.

 

“Bye,” Dylan said, turning back to his father. “So? He’s not that bad.”

 

Todd laughed, walking over to Dean and Dylan. “He’s gonna get better Dean, don’t worry. And yeah…he’s not really that bad. He has to be faking.” He chuckled nervously. “Right?”

Dean grinned and shook his head. “So what’s going on, Todd? Everything good?”

 

Todd nodded. “Everything good. What about you, Dyl, liking high school so far?”

 

Dylan shrugged. “It’s okay. It’s cool, I guess. It’s fun to get to hang out with Danny at school again.”

 

Todd smiled in amusement. “I’m sure. You sure that’s the kid you wanna get into a car with? It could be kind of…” he shrugged, looking down at Dyl. “Well. What is today, Thursday?” He nodded once when Dylan nodded up at him. “Well…this weekend. You can go for a bit of a drive with him then, if you want. He’s going to be practicing.”

 

“Dad?” Dylan asked hopefully, looking up at his father. “Is it…okay? I mean, we won’t be going far--”

 

“They won’t be going far,” Todd agreed, crossing his arms.

 

“We won’t be gone long,” Dylan continued, looking over at Todd for confirmation. “And we’ll be safe. So yeah, right?”

 

Dean crossed one of his arms across his chest and reached up, scratching behind his ear. “Uh…” he looked over at Todd, then back at Dylan. “Yeah, right.”

 

“Awesome!” Danny yelled again, pumping his fist out of the door.

 

“Dressed, Danny!” Todd yelled, turning around to the house. “I’ll talk to you guys later. I gotta go beat this kid.” He walked up the stairs to the deck and walked into the house, waving back.

 

“Come on Dyl, Sam should probably be ready by now,” Dean said, reaching out for Dylan.

 

Dylan nodded and followed alongside Dean, glancing both ways before they began crossing the street. “So when do I get to start to drive?” he asked.

 

Dean raised an eyebrow and looked down at Dylan before he began laughing loudly. “Yeah, right, Dylan,” he said, wrapping an arm around Dylan’s shoulders. “Nice try. But now that I have proof that there’s crazy people on the road--” he looked back at Todd and Danny’s house, “you’ll be old enough to drive when you have to take your wife to the hospital to give birth.”

 

Dylan rolled his eyes and shook his head, smiling weakly. “What if I don’t have a wife?”

 

“Then you’ll be old enough to drive when you take your husband…” Dean trailed off, frowning, “somewhere gay. Anyway, my point is, no driving. For years to come. Now get in the house and go bother Sam.”

 

Dylan laughed softly and ran into the house, Dean pulling the door closed behind them. 

 

* * * *

 

Danny groaned and rolled around on his bedroom floor, arm thrown over his eyes. “Dylan, this homework is hard. Help me. Do it for me.” He looked up at Dylan, pouting. “Dyl?”

 

Dylan rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Danny, you are not stupid. Do the homework.” He laughed softly when Danny began rolling around again, groaning loudly. “Danny.”

 

“Dylan,” Danny said, pushing himself up. “Come on, let’s just go for a drive. Yeah?”

 

“Homework,” Dylan said, gesturing to binders and textbooks on the floor. “Danny, no.”

 

Danny sighed and reached up, pushing a curl behind his ear. “Dylan, I have something I need to tell you.”

 

Dylan looked at Danny expectantly. “Okay. So…tell me.”

 

Danny thought for a moment before shaking his head. “Uh no, that’s okay. Let’s just do this, okay?”

 

Dylan frowned and looked at Danny in confusion before he reached down, picking up Danny’s binder and handing it to him. “Okay then. We’ll go for a drive afterwards, okay?”

 

Danny grinned and nodded eagerly. “Yeah, alright, Dylan,” he agreed. “Sounds good.” He reached over and grabbed his pencil, quickly writing in his first answer. “Okay, maybe it’s not as hard as I thought,” he admitted softly, scanning the rest of the page.

 

Dylan laughed again and nodded. “What are you doing in your math class anyway?”

 

Danny turned the binder around and watched Dylan’s eyes moving over the page. “Can you do it?”

 

“Uh…” Dylan shrugged, “I’m not sure. I’ve gotta do mine.”

 

Danny laughed and shook his head. “I didn’t mean will you do it, I meant can you do it? Like, are you smart enough?”

 

“Oh um, probably not,” Dylan replied. “I think I have to learn this stuff before I can do that stuff.”

 

“Well what are you doing right now?” Danny asked, sitting down on the bed beside Dylan, looking over his shoulder to read Dylan’s work. “Oh yeah, I remember that stuff. Good times, huh?”

 

Dylan smiled and reached over, grabbing his pencil off Danny’s bed. “Oh yeah. So let’s just hurry up and get it all done so we can go.”

 

Danny grinned and nodded once. “Deal.” He pushed a curl behind his ear again and wrote in another answer. 

 

* * * *

 

Dylan jerked in his seat, hand gripping onto the dashboard. “Danny!” he exclaimed, glaring at him.

 

“Sorry,” Danny murmured apologetically, glancing over at Dylan. “I just--” he grunted softly, trying to work the gear shift.

 

“It’s not even a standard,” Dylan pointed out, reaching down to knock Danny’s off of the shift stick. 

 

“Dylan!” Danny yelled, smacking Dylan’s hand away. “Don’t do that! I’m driving here.” He rolled his eyes and grabbed back onto the shift stick, putting the car into park. “Okay. Deep breath. Not so bad, right?”

 

Dylan stared at Danny in disbelief, just shaking his head slowly. “Uh…whatever. Where are we going anyway?”

 

Danny didn’t answer, just put the car back into drive and slowly pressed his foot down on the gas, starting off again. “Nowhere, really. I just…I gotta tell you something, remember?”

 

Dylan nodded once, leaning back in his seat. “Yeah,” he said softly, “I remember. You can just tell me, you know, we don’t have to drive around.”

 

Danny made a small noise of agreement, but kept driving. “I know that, I just…I--”

 

“‘Cause what it seems like right now,” Dylan interrupted, continuing on, “is that you’re driving me off somewhere so that you can kill me. And I tell ya Danny, if it turns out I wasted twelve years on this friendship--”

 

“I’m gay,” Danny blurted out finally, looking over at Dylan for a reaction.

 

Dylan’s eyes narrowed and he cocked his head slightly to the side. “Uh…what?”

 

Danny sighed and looked around, before pulling into an almost empty parking lot, turning off the car. “I…am gay. I like boys.”

 

“Oh,” Dylan said simply, shifting in his seat. “Okay.”

 

Danny swallowed hard and shifted, undoing his seatbelt. “I didn’t mean to spring it on you, I just thought that-- that you should know.”

 

Dylan rolled his lips into his mouth and glanced out the window. He opened to his mouth to ask something but after a moment of thinking decided against it and settled back into his seat. 

 

“What?” Danny asked, looking over at Dylan.

 

Dylan shook his head. “Nothing. I was just-- I was going to ask how long you knew for. But then I figured it’d be the same as you asking me how long I’ve known I was str-- for.” He swallowed hard and shifted awkwardly. 

 

Danny nodded slowly and reached out, fingers flexing around the steering wheel. “Straight, right?” he asked.

 

“What?” Dylan asked quickly, turning to Danny. “Oh um…yeah. I just…” He reached up, scratching at the side of his head. “Yeah, straight,” he said softly, clearing his throat.

 

Danny looked out his window, watching cars drive by. “I mean, I’ve known for…awhile. I was just sort of waiting to tell you. I wanted you to--”

 

“Be old enough to get it?” Dylan asked.

 

Danny smiled weakly and nodded. “Yeah, sort of. I just-- I…okay truth is, I didn’t know how to tell you. Really. I mean, it’s one thing for your parents to be gay, because you can’t choose your family, but you can choose your friends and I just thought that--” he stopped talking and just settled back into his seat, hands still on the steering wheel. “Are we good?”

 

Dylan nodded. “Yeah, of course. We’re good.”

 

Danny let out a sigh of relief and reached over, ruffling Dylan’s hair playfully. “Okay. Well, that’s what I had to tell you. So we can go now.”

 

Dylan looked around outside the car, before smiling. “Come on, I’m hungry. Let’s get something to eat.” He opened the car door and climbed out, waiting for Danny.

 

Danny swallowed hard and climbed out of the car slowly, pushing the door closed behind him. “Dylan?” he asked softly.

 

“Yeah?” Dylan asked, walking towards the entrance of the Subway.

 

Danny bit his lip and sighed, shoving his hair out of his eyes. “I’m gay,” he said finally, smiling faintly. 

 

Dylan chuckled softly and grinned. “Yeah, I heard.” His smile disappeared and he took a deep breath. “I’m…good.”

 

Danny reached out for Dylan and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “Yeah, I figured.”

 

* * * *

 

“So what’d you and Danny do?” Dean asked, walking behind the couch, running his fingers through Dylan’s hair.

 

Dylan shook his head. “Not much. Homework.”

 

“He drive you anywhere?” Dean asked, flopping down on the couch beside Dylan. 

 

Dylan nodded, lifting his head. “Uh, yeah. Subway.”

 

Dean nodded slowly, thinking to himself. “Sounds good, kiddo. You didn’t crash into anything, did you?”

 

Dylan thought for a moment before shaking his head quickly. “No, I don’t think. At least, I didn’t notice.” He smiled over at Dean. “Although there was that old woman…”

 

Dean grinned back and looked up when Sam walked behind the couch and reached out for him, grabbing onto his belt loop.

 

“Yeah?” Sam asked, leaning down, kissing Dean quickly.

 

Dean grinned up at him, tilting his head to kiss the tip of Sam’s nose. “Nothing. Just bored.”

 

Sam smiled. “Dylan, did you finish your homework today?”

 

Dylan nodded. “Me and Danny.”

 

“Good,” Sam said, reaching down to ruffle Dylan’s hair. “And don’t you have a test tomorrow?”

 

Dylan shook his head. “Tuesday. I’m studying tomorrow night.”

 

Sam nodded. “Well, your father and I are going out for supper tomorrow night.”

 

Dylan looked up at Sam. “I can study without you guys around. Maybe I’ll just do it before you guys leave, or something.” He shifted and leaned back against the couch, turning back to the television. He stretched his arms above his head and yawned softly, settling into the cushions.

 

“Come start supper with me,” Sam said, grasping onto the top of Dean’s t-shirt.

 

Dean smiled over at Dylan before climbing off the couch, following behind Sam.

 

Dylan gave a quick smile back and shifted again, reaching out for the remote. He changed the channel and turned the volume down, swallowing hard as he tried not to think about Danny.

 

* * * *

 

“Stacy Anatoly,” Danny murmured, glancing past Dylan, “on the prowl.”

 

Dylan leaned back from his locker, eyes opening wide when Stacy grinned over at him.

 

Danny tried not to laugh and leaned back against the lockers. “Wonder what she wants.”

 

Dylan shrugged and grabbed his history textbook. “I don’t know. Probably you.” He shoved his book into his backpack, looking up when Danny cleared his throat. “What?” he asked, lifting his head.

 

Danny nodded over Dylan’s shoulder, smiling politely at Stacy. “Miss Anatoly,” he nodded.

 

Stacy made a face at Danny, but then smiled at Dylan. “You’re Dylan Winchester, right?” she asked, voice tiny.

 

Dylan nodded slowly. “Uh, yeah.” He looked back at his locker, jumping when Danny elbowed him. “I mean, yes, I am. Stacy, right?”

 

Stacy nodded. “So, you’re in my geography class, right? You sit near the front?”

 

Dylan nodded again. “Yeah, that’s…me. You sit in the back, right?”

 

“Have you studied yet for the test?” Stacy asked, ignoring Dylan’s question. “The geography test, I mean.”

 

Danny leaned forward, smiling at Stacy. “I think he knew what you meant,” he said softly.

 

“Um, who are you again?” Stacy snapped, raising an eyebrow at Danny.

 

Danny shifted his backpack on his shoulder and reached his hand out to Stacy. “Daniel Ford. I’ve been in your grade since…kindergarten.”

 

“Great,” Stacy said, not amused, and not taking Danny’s hand. “So, Dylan, I was really just wondering if you could help me study for the test. It’s the first one of the year and all and--”

 

“Weren’t you in that class last year?” Danny interrupted. He grinned and chuckled softly. “You were, with me. And you failed it.”

 

“That’s why I need his help with the test,” Stacy said. “So, when are you like, available for that?”

 

“The test is tomorrow,” Dylan pointed out, “and last class starts in like, five minutes.”

 

“Well,” Stacy sighed, thinking for a moment, “I can come over to your house.”

 

Danny rolled his eyes, pushing himself off the lockers. “Dylan, I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later.”

 

“Uh, yeah,” Dylan nodded, following Danny with his eyes before looking back at Stacy. “I don’t know, my parents aren’t going to be home tonight.”

 

“Perfect!” Stacy exclaimed. “So like, where do you live?” She reached back and pulled her Blackberry out of her pocket, handing it to Dylan.

 

Dylan swallowed hard and typed his address in, handing it back to Stacy. “But--”

 

“Okay,” Stacy smiled, slipping the Blackberry into her purse. “I’ll see you around seven.” She reached and patted his shoulder, walking by him down the hallway.

 

“Crap,” Dylan muttered, turning to lightly bang his head against his locker.

 

* * * *

 

Dylan pushed himself up on the couch, watching Dean tie his tie. “So um, somebody sort of might be coming over.”

 

“Danny?” Dean asked, quickly glancing in the mirror.

 

Dylan shook his head. “No. Somebody else, from school. They’re in my geography class. They asked me today if I could help them study for the test.”

 

Dean thought for a minute, biting on the inside of his bottom lip. “Well uh, you’ll still be studying, so I guess so. They’ll probably have to leave once we get back though.”

 

Dylan nodded. “Yeah, okay. I don’t think it’ll take that long really anyway, they seem like the kind of person to get bored really easily.”

 

Dean smiled understandingly. “Yeah, I get that.” He looked over when Sam walked out of the bedroom, fingers working at his tie. “Dylan’s helping somebody study tonight.”

 

“Oh yeah?” Sam asked, fixing Dean’s collar. “Who?”

 

“Just someone in my geography class,” Dylan answered. “They asked me for help today, but it was at the end of lunch, so we didn’t really have time.”

 

Sam thought for a moment before finally nodding. “Yeah sure, sounds fine. They have a drive?”

 

Dylan nodded. “Yeah, I think so. They’re coming around seven.”

 

Sam glanced down at his watch. “Okay. We can drive ‘em home when we get back or something.”

 

Dylan smiled faintly. “Yeah, okay. That sounds alright.” He swallowed and smiled again when Sam gave Dean a quick kiss. “So why are you guys going out tonight anyway?”

 

Sam shrugged. “For fun. I’m just tired of making supper all of the time, I guess.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes but smiled anyway. “Yeah, well, we better get going.” He leaned down and kissed the top of Dylan’s head, ruffling his hair. “Have fun. Actually study, please.”

 

Dylan nodded and leaned up, giving Sam a kiss on the cheek. “Bye Mom. Bye Dad.”

 

“Study!” Dean called, walking into the kitchen.

 

Dylan nodded again and dropped back onto the couch. “I will! I promise.”

 

“Good kid,” Sam smiled, following after Dean. “You want us to bring you home some dessert?” he asked, grabbing his jacket. “Maybe some cheesecake?”

 

“No strawberries,” Dylan grinned.

 

Sam laughed softly. “Yeah, I know Dylan, don’t worry about it. I know what you’re allergic to.”

 

“See ya!” Dylan called, tilting his head back to watch Sam and Dean walk out of the house.

 

“Love ya!” Dean called back, pulling the door closed behind them. 

 

Dylan sighed and settled back into the couch, glancing at the clock on the television.

 

* * * *

 

Stacy grinned when Dylan opened the door, bouncing on her feet. “Totally cute house, Winchester.”

 

“Uh, thanks,” Dylan said slowly, moving out of the way. “Did you even bring your book?” he asked, glancing down at Stacy’s purse.

 

Stacy raised an eyebrow, trying not to giggle. “Um, no. I figured you would have yours.”

 

Dylan sighed and closed the door, nodding at her then the shoe rack. “I’ll go check my bedroom.”

 

Stacy grinned and toed off her high heels, following Dylan through the kitchen and living room, stopping at the couch. “I’ll just sit.”

 

“Okay,” Dylan said, turning down the hallway to his bedroom. He walked in and looked around for his geography textbook, sighing. He shook his head and spotted his geography binder, grabbing that instead. 

 

Stacy pushed her hair behind her ears and fixed her dress, looking up when she heard Dylan walk up behind her. “I’m sorry I didn’t bring my book. I really thought that you’d have yours.”

 

Dylan shrugged and sat down beside her, opening his binder. “It’s okay. I probably should’ve brought mine home, just in case.”

 

Stacy shifted closer to him, smiling. “I really wanna do well this time around. People seem to think that I’m an idiot.”

 

“Oh,” Dylan said softly, flipping to the first page.

 

“I’m not,” Stacy said quickly. “Not really. People just think that because I’m pretty.”

 

Dylan tried not to laugh, biting the inside of his cheeks. “But uh…Danny said that you failed this class last year. I mean, I’m not calling you stupid or anything, but--”

 

“You’re the guy who skipped a grade, right?” Stacy interrupted.

 

Dylan nodded. “Yeah.”

 

“Yeah,” Stacy said quietly. “That’s cool. So do you think that everybody’s stupid?”

 

“No,” Dylan said in confusion. “I don’t. I just…why’d you fail then?”

 

Stacy shrugged, shifting closer to Dylan again. “It’s just a hard class for me. But I’d really like it if you helped me.” She smiled, tongue coming out to wet her lips.

 

“Uh…” Dylan swallowed hard, shifting away from her. “Okay then. I can do that. So let’s just start with the formation of the universe.”

 

Stacy sighed, thinking for a moment. “Okay, that was like…the big bang theory, right?”

 

Dylan nodded. “Well, that’s what we mainly learned about. Okay, so what do you know about it?”

 

Stacy bit her lip, closing her eyes for a moment. “You promise you won’t make fun?” she asked softly. 

 

Dylan nodded. “I would never.”

 

“Okay,” Stacy said. “I think it was thirteen…point seven? Billion years ago. The Augustinian theory.”

 

“Actually, I think that the Augustinian theory was before the big bang,” Dylan corrected. “But close.”

 

Stacy sighed. “I really…okay.” She thought again. “It went Augustinian, big bang, universe shaped and basic elements form. That was all like, within ten seconds.”

 

“Probably like, within five,” Dylan said, “but okay. That’s good. The time line he gave us, nothing else happens for another ten thousand years.”

 

Stacy smiled. “Do you actually find this stuff interesting?”

 

“This? No, not so much,” Dylan admitted, glancing down at his binder. “I hope it gets more interesting.”

 

Stacy smiled again, bumping shoulders with Dylan. “It doesn’t. Not really.” She laughed loudly, before she snorted and her eyes went wide. “Oh my god,” she muttered, “that’s so embarrassing.”

 

Dylan laughed, shaking his head. “No, it isn’t. Don’t worry about it.”

 

Stacy began laughing again. “You’re a really sweet guy, Winchester.”

 

“It’s uh, I sort of prefer Dylan,” Dylan said, meeting Stacy’s eyes.

 

“Oh, sorry,” Stacy quickly apologized. “Winchester’s just a really cool name.”

 

Dylan ducked his head, grinning. “Uh yeah, thank my parents for that, I guess.”

 

“I saw them,” Stacy said suddenly, looking at Dylan. “Your parents, I mean.”

 

“Yeah?” Dylan asked, straightening up.

 

“At parent’s night, or whatever,” Stacy continued. “They’re both--”

 

“Guys?” Dylan interrupted.

 

Stacy smiled and blushed, looking down. “Uh, yeah.”

 

Dylan grinned and nodded. “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

 

“So are you adopted?” Stacy asked, looking back up at him.

 

Dylan swallowed hard, trying to figure out how to answer that question. “Um, sort of,” he said finally. “My mom is-- well, one of my dads, I’m really theirs.”

 

Stacy nodded. “Which one is your mom?”

 

“The really tall one,” Dylan answered, “with the hair.”

 

“Oh,” Stacy said, straightening up. “I thought you looked a lot like the other one.”

 

“Yeah,” Dylan muttered, shifting uncomfortably, “we get that a lot.” He smiled over at Stacy. “Let’s just continue on with the earth origin theories.” He smiled again, shifting closer to her.

 

* * * *

 

Sam laughed and reached out for his water, smiling over at Dean. “Sometimes, I don’t know how the hell Todd manages to function with that kid around.”

 

Dean grinned. “I would’ve loved to have seen Danny as a baby. Seriously, we came into that child’s life too late.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes, still laughing softly. “He was two, wasn’t he?”

 

Dean shrugged. “First word would’ve been hilarious.”

 

Sam shook his head. “Oh, Dean,” he muttered, reaching out for his fork. He cut his egg roll into a few pieces, picking one up.

 

Dean leaned over the table a bit and opened his mouth, winking at Sam.

 

“Dean!” Sam exclaimed. “Seriously, we’re in public.”

 

Dean sighed and rolled his eyes, sitting back in his seat. “You are such a damn party pooper, Sammy.” He reached out for his own glass, taking a quick drink. “Love you though.”

 

Sam smiled and ducked his head, rolling his lips into his mouth. “Yeah,” he said quietly, “I love you too.”

 

Dean reached over and grasped onto Sam’s hand, before sticking his tongue out at him.

 

Sam laughed loudly, head going back. “So romantic.”

 

Dean puckered his lips at Sam, keeping his in Sam’s. “I do love you though.”

 

Sam smiled faintly, tightening his hand in Dean’s. “I do love you too.”

 

Dean sighed and pulled his hand back. “If we weren’t…” he looked around and cleared his throat, “would you marry me?”

 

Sam frowned. “Wait. Are you asking me to marry you, or are you asking me if I would?”

 

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know. Would you?”

 

Sam shrugged, taking another drink of water. “Maybe. I mean, we’ve been together for…fourteen years. That’s a long time. And we’ve made it without marriage, so maybe we just wouldn’t need it.”

 

“You were going to marry Jess,” Dean pointed out quietly.

 

“Yeah,” Sam breathed, staring down at the table in front of him, “well, it’s different with you than it was with her.”

 

Dean sighed and took another drink. He cleared his throat. “I didn’t mean to say that. I just thought that…you’d be happier if we were married.”

 

Sam smiled and looked up at Dean. “We can’t get married though.”

 

“Will you marry me?” Dean asked, ignoring Sam’s previous comment.

 

Sam smile grew and he shook his head. “No. I won’t.”

 

Dean sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, before he began to laugh. “Well, okay, at least I tried not make our son not a bastard.” 

 

* * * *

 

Stacy grabbed her purse and pulled out her lip gloss, reapplying while nodding her head, listening to Dylan. She screwed the cap back on, smiling at him. “Thanks so much for this. I realize how I sort of…sprung it all on you. It was kind of rude of me.”

 

Dylan shrugged and closed his binder, leaning forward to set it on the coffee table. “It’s okay. I mean, if I really didn’t want to, I could’ve told you no.”

 

Stacy smiled again. “We should do this more often.”

 

“Study?” Dylan asked.

 

Stacy shook her head. “Uh, no, that’s not really what I meant. Hang out.”

 

“Oh,” Dylan said, nodding slowly, “yeah, sure. I mean, I don’t know what Danny would think, but I’m sure that if you wanted, you could eat lunch with us or something.”

 

Stacy smiled and leaned in to Dylan, quickly brushing her lips against his. 

 

Dylan’s eyes went wide and he cleared his throat. “Uh--”

 

“I sort of meant…just like this,” Stacy said quietly, meeting Dylan’s eyes for a moment before kissing him again. “Would that be okay?”

 

Dylan nodded jerkily. “I think so,” he said softly.

 

Stacy smiled faintly and her lips met his again, her hand coming up to gently pulling on his hair, pulling him in closer.

 

Dylan closed his eyes and reached up, cupping the side of her head, not sure what to do. When she pulled back, his tongue automatically came out, licking up her lip gloss. “Sorry,” he said quietly.

 

“It’s okay,” Stacy said, kissing Dylan. “You’ve never…been kissed before, have you?”

 

Dylan shook his head. “No,” he admitted.

 

“Some people think that you and that Danny guy are together,” Stacy said softly. “You’re not, are you?”

 

Dylan shook his head again. “No, we’re just friends. People think I’m gay?”

 

Stacy shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess so.”

 

Dylan closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m not.”

 

“I didn’t say that I thought you were,” Stacy pointed out. “But people think you are.”

 

Dylan groaned softly and sighed, meeting Stacy’s eyes. “I feel like an idiot.”

 

Stacy bit the inside of her lip, watching Dylan. “I can tell people that you’re not. I can tell them that we kissed. They’d have to believe me. I could tell them whatever you wanted me to tell them.” She leaned in, kissing Dylan’s cheek, moving her lips to his. She cupped his cheeks and shifted slowly, bringing one knee up onto the couch, moving the other one over his thighs, straddling him.

 

“I--” Dylan broke back, swallowing hard, “I don’t think that--”

 

“If I’m going to tell them it,” Stacy breathed, reaching up to push her dress strap off her shoulder, “we may as well do it.”

 

Dylan moved his hands to Stacy’s hips, staring at her bare shoulder. “I’ve never…”

 

“It’s okay,” she said quietly, kissing him again, lips moving together gently before she opened her mouth against his, tongue slipping out. Stacy broke the kiss and looked over Dylan and the couch, seeing the door to Sam and Dean’s room. “Is that your parents’ room?” she asked, looking down at Dylan, brushing his hair off his forehead.

 

Dylan glanced back and nodded. “Uh…yeah.”

 

Stacy smiled and swung her leg off Dylan, standing up. She grabbed onto her purse and looked down at him. “Well, come on then.”

 

Dylan swallowed hard and had about a million thoughts running through his head, all why he shouldn’t do it, but after a few tense moments, he pushed himself up and followed Stacy into the bedroom.

 

* * * *

 

Sam undid his seatbelt and shifted, reaching into the backseat for Dylan’s cheesecake. As he sat back, Dean moved across the seat, looking down at him. “Yeah?” he asked, meeting Dean’s eyes.

 

Dean leaned down and kissed Sam, lips moving against Sam’s, tongue coming out to lick at Sam’s lips. “Still taste like dessert,” he murmured, eyes flicking down.

 

Sam smiled against Dean’s mouth. “Cool your jets,” he grinned, pushing the door open. “We still gotta drive Dylan’s friend home.” He climbed out of the car, closing the door behind him.

 

Dean rolled his eyes and followed Sam out of the car, jogging over to him. “Hopefully, they’ll have already gone and we can just go straight to bed.”

 

Sam smiled and glanced down at his watch. “Dean, it’s only nine.”

 

“I’d go to bed at seven for you, Sammy,” Dean said seriously, opening the door. He stepped back and let Sam walk in, slapping Sam’s ass as he followed behind.

 

Sam laughed loudly and walked into the kitchen, toeing off his shoes before he walked over to the counter, setting food down. “Dyl?” he called, listening for a moment before hearing a thump from the master bedroom. “Dylan?” he asked, walking through the kitchen.

 

Dean sighed and toed off his shoes, walking over to the dining table, shrugging off his jacket. 

 

Sam frowned and knocked on his bedroom door, before moving his hand to the handle. He pushed open the door and flicked on the lights.

 

“Don’t!” Dylan exclaimed, grabbing one of the pillows, covering his lap.

 

Stacy quickly grabbed her dress off the floor, trying to cover herself. 

 

“Dylan?” Sam asked loudly, stepping into the room. “What the hell are you doing?”

 

“What’s going on?” Dean asked, following after Sam. He stopped at the door, jaw open in disbelief. “Holy…uh, you must be Dylan’s friend.”

 

Stacy blushed and nodded, reaching down to grab her underwear. “Stacy.”

 

Dean sighed and walked into the bedroom, wrapping an arm around Stacy’s shoulders. “Come on, the bathroom’s just in here,” he said softly, opening the door for her. 

 

Stacy smiled politely and closed the door behind her.

 

Dean turned back around, staring at Dylan. “Dylan, what the hell did you do?”

 

Dylan swallowed hard and reached down, grabbing his boxers off the floor. “We just--”

 

“You’re thirteen,” Sam interrupted. “How the fuck old is she?”

 

“Uh, I think she’s the same age as Danny,” Dylan answered, pulling his boxers on quickly.

 

Sam shook his head in disbelief. “You’re thirteen,” he said again, looking over at Dean. “Wha-- in our goddamn bed, if that wasn’t bad enough.”

 

“It was her idea,” Dylan explained quietly, grabbing onto his jeans. 

 

“I don’t care whose idea it was!” Sam exclaimed, “you don’t have sex!” They all looked over when Stacy opened the bathroom door, coming out dressed.

 

“Stacy, is it?” Dean asked, walking back over to her. “Are you okay?”

 

Stacy nodded and began looking around for her purse. “I’m fine.”

 

“You need a drive home?” Dean asked, handing her the handbag.

 

“Will you have to tell my parents?” Stacy asked, blushing when she noticed the condom wrapper on the floor.

 

“Uh…” Dean looked over at Sam, who was still glaring, “I don’t know. How about you and me talk in the car, and I’ll figure out what I’m going to tell your parents.”

 

Stacy nodded and began walking towards the door, smiling weakly over at Dylan. “Thanks for helping me study, Dylan. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

“I’ll be back soon,” Dean said softly, looking over at Sam, who just nodded.

 

Sam turned back to Dylan, who was pulling on his t-shirt. “What the hell did you do?”

 

Dylan looked up at Sam. “I had to.”

 

“What?” Sam asked in confusion. “What are you talking about? What, she raped you?” he asked sarcastically.

 

“No!” Dylan exclaimed. “She just-- she said that everybody at school thinks I’m gay, and that she could tell them I’m not.”

 

“So you had sex with her?” Sam clarified. “Dylan, that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. That-- it doesn’t matter what anybody thinks about you. Especially not the idiots at school who don’t even know you. Who the hell is that girl anyway? Two years older than you.”

 

“Her name is Stacy Anatoly,” Dylan replied, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “She’s one of the most popular girls at school. She asked me if I could help her study. Once we were done, she kissed me.”

 

Sam shook his head, rubbing at his face. “I don’t care if she kissed you Dylan, you’re thirteen! Your father and I told you to fucking wait until you were in love.”

 

“You don’t understand!” Dylan cried, standing up quickly.

 

“Then explain it to me,” Sam snapped.

 

“They think I’m gay!” Dylan yelled.

 

“You mentioned that already,” Sam said, “but I still don’t see the point.”

 

“They think I’m gay with Danny,” Dylan continued on.

 

“And?” Sam asked. “Dylan, would you just spell it out for me, because I’m obviously not--”

 

“Danny actually is gay!” Dylan exclaimed. “That’s the point! People think I’m gay with somebody who actually is gay. I had sex with her to prove that I’m not.”

 

“Okay, wait,” Sam said. “Danny’s gay? When did that happen? I mean, when did you find out?”

 

“Yesterday,” Dylan replied, “when we were driving. He told that he was gay and that he liked boys. And then Stacy told me that everybody thinks I’m going out with Danny.”

 

“Who were you trying to prove it to?” Sam asked gently. “Nobody was in here except for you and Stacy.”

 

Dylan swallowed hard and looked away from Sam, moving to walk by him, but Sam reached out, grasping onto his shoulder. “What?” he asked, looking up at Sam.

 

“Dylan, just because Danny’s gay, doesn’t mean you are,” Sam said quietly. He sighed and wrapped his arm around Dylan’s shoulders, leading him out of the bedroom and into the living room, sitting him down on the couch. “Dyl, you didn’t have to have sex with that girl.”

 

Dylan wiped at his eyes and sniffled. “I wanted her to tell people I wasn’t gay,” he said softly, curling into Sam’s side.

 

Sam kissed the top of Dylan’s head, holding him close. “Why?” he asked.

 

“Because I think that I might be,” Dylan admitted before he began to sob quietly, burying his face in Sam’s shirt. 

 

“Shh,” Sam said softly, helping Dylan onto his lap, wrapping his arms around him. “It’s okay,” he said quietly, kissing his temple. “Dylan, if you didn’t think it until Danny said it, I don’t think that you--”

 

“I thought it way before that,” Dylan said softly, resting his head against Sam’s chest, “and then Danny said that he actually was and then Stacy said what she did and I just thought that maybe I really am. And I don’t wanna be.” He sniffled and wiped at his eyes, taking a deep breath.

 

“It’s okay to be gay, Dyl,” Sam said quietly, “if you really are.”

 

Dylan nodded and closed his eyes, yawning softly. “I’m sort of tired.”

 

“Sleep then,” Sam said, kissing Dylan’s head, “at least until your father comes home.” He sighed and closed his eyes, leaning his head back.

 

* * * *

 

“I like girls too though,” Dylan said quietly, meeting Dean’s eyes. “I don’t know what I like anymore. I just--” he wiped at his eyes and rested his chin against his arms, “I’m kind of scared about it.”

 

Dean ran his fingers through Dylan’s hair, making a small noise. “It’s okay, Dyl, you’re still just a kid. It’s okay to not know what you want.” He smiled over at Sam.

 

Dylan lifted his head. “Yeah?”

 

Dean nodded. “I don’t think that you should’ve had sex with her, Dylan. I talked to her parents about it.”

 

“What’d they say?” Sam asked.

 

“Well, apparently, it was not her first time,” Dean replied, “but she did not come here tonight with those intentions.” He kissed the top of Dylan’s head. “Do you think you like Danny?” he asked.

 

Dylan nodded slowly. “I think so. But I really liked Stacy too. She’s pretty. I think I like girls and boys.”

 

“She is pretty,” Sam agreed quietly. He sighed, looking over at Dylan. “Thirteen is really young to have sex, Dylan. How long are you going to wait until you do it again?” he asked, cocking his head slightly to the side.

 

“Till I really like the person?” Dylan asked. “Or until I’m married?”

 

Sam smiled. “The first one might do. But I do want you to wait. So does your dad. I hope this is something we can all just sort of…forget. I just can’t believe it Dylan, you’re only thirteen. And you’ve had sex.”

 

Dylan dropped his eyes in shame. “I’m sorry.” He looked at both of his parents, straightening up. “Can I ask you guys something?” Dean and Sam both nodded, before Dylan continued on. “When did you guys figure out that you were gay?”

 

Sam’s eyes opened a little wider and he looked over at Dean, who had an amused smile on his face.

 

Dean cleared his throat and nodded over at Sam, leaning forward. “Well Dylan, um, I think I was twenty-one when I figured out that I could like boys.”

 

“Yeah?” Dylan asked, looking up at Dean. “But that’s…like, old. When did you first have sex?”

 

“When I was fifteen,” Dean replied quietly. “I’ve only ever slept with one man, Dyl. Lots of women, I’ll admit it, but only one guy. And we’re in the same room with him.”

 

Dylan frowned and thought for a moment, before looking back up. “So you’re not really gay, are you?” he asked. “If you’ve only slept with one boy.”

 

Dean shook his head slowly. “Well, I could still be gay, but to be honest…I’ve never really considered myself gay. That’s what we told you when we asked, because we thought it was easier. I’m probably bisexual-lite.” He smiled weakly. “Now, Sam over there, big homo.”

 

“Dean!” Sam exclaimed, even though he was trying not to laugh.

 

“Mom?” Dylan asked, turning to Sam. “What-- what about you? Are you gay?”

 

Sam shook his head. “I don’t know, not really. I’m bisexual, I guess. I’ve slept with two boys, and two girls.”

 

Dylan swallowed hard, biting on his bottom lip. “If…Dad only slept with you then who…was the other guy you slept with?” he asked, looking over at Sam.

 

Sam’s mouth opened and he looked over at Dean, who was watching him expectantly. He sighed and looked down for a moment, thinking. “Um…well, it was…eight years ago, Dyl. You were five.”

 

Dylan frowned and looked over at Dean, who was taking a drink from his beer. “I was five? But you guys were together then. You cheated on Dad?”

 

Sam closed his eyes for a moment and nodded once. “Yeah, I did,” he admitted finally. "I did.” He looked at Dylan. “Remember…a couple of weeks into your first year at school and--”

 

“And you moved out,” Dylan finished quietly. “You said that you had hurt Dad’s feelings and you couldn’t come back until he felt better.”

 

Sam nodded. “I cheated with a guy named Sebastien, who worked with me. That’s why I stopped working, Dyl.”

 

Dylan looked back at Dean, who had his eyes squeezed shut. “Oh,” he said finally, laying his head back down on his arms. “I’m sorry I had sex with her,” he said eventually.

 

Dean leaned down and kissed the back of Dylan’s head. “It’s okay,” he assured him. “We’re okay.”

 

Dylan cleared his throat and pushed his chair back from the table and started off in the direction of his bedroom.

 

“Uh, Dyl?” Sam said, leaning back in his chair. “You can sleep in our room tonight, until we get around to changing the sheets.”

 

Dylan nodded and turned back around, walking towards the master bedroom.

 

Dean opened his eyes and looked over at Sam, who was watching him back. “You didn’t have to tell him the truth.”

 

Sam shrugged. “I’m…just tired of the lies that I’ve told. He asked, he deserved to know.” He pushed his chair back and started walking towards Dylan’s bedroom.

 

* * * *

 

Danny watched as Stacy walked by the lunch table and Dylan ducked his head. “So…I’m guessing there won’t be a second time.”

 

Dylan lifted his eyes and glared at Danny. “No. There won’t be.”

 

Danny reached out for his milk, nodding slowly as he leaned back in his chair. “So what, was she bad or something?”

 

Dylan shook his head. “It’s not that.”

 

“Then what is it?” Danny asked. “I mean, I may be gay, but I’m not blind; she’s pretty. What, you don’t like her?”

 

“I didn’t say that,” Dylan snapped. “It’s not that I don’t like her, I just…think that I like somebody else too. Or something. I don’t know. I haven’t figured it out yet.” He ducked his head again, staring at the textbook on his lap.

 

Danny studied Dylan, reaching out for his brownie. “Sorry,” he said softly. “I mean…I can’t believe you did it. Is she going to tell anybody?” he asked, ripping off the cellophane.

 

Dylan shrugged, eyes blinking furiously as he tried to focus on the words in front of him. “I don’t know. I don’t care. People already think that I’m gay, that’s not going to change it.”

 

Danny frowned at Dylan. “People think that you’re gay?” he asked.

 

Dylan lifted his head. “Yeah, they do. Alright? They think that we’re gay together, okay? That’s why I had sex with her, to prove that I wasn’t.” He looked back down at his textbook, only feeling slightly better that it was all off his chest.

 

Danny sighed and bit the inside of his lip, breaking his brownie in two. He cleared his throat and leaned forward, offering Dylan one half. “Sorry.”

 

Dylan looked up and sighed, staring at Danny for a moment before reaching out, taking the brownie from him.


	23. Chapter 23

Title: Look What Love Has Done - Volume 3 - Chapter 23

Pairing: Sam/Dean

Disclaimer: Not mine

Rating: PG-13 this chapter

Summary: Danny's got a crush and everybody knows it, except for the person that he actually likes.

Author's Note: Forget volume one, forget volume two; this is volume three 

 

fourteen years, six months and twenty-four days old

 

Todd bumped shoulders with Danny, taking a sip of his soda. “That’s that Stacy girl, right?”

 

Danny looked up from the football field to where his father was looking and nodded. “Yeah, that’s her.” He looked back to the game, smiling when Dylan knocked the ball away from the receiver. He clapped a couple of times and looked over at Todd. “So?”

 

Todd shrugged. “Just wondering, Dan. She’s pretty.”

 

Danny shrugged, making a small noise. “Yeah, she is.” He sighed and leaned back, rolling his shoulders.

 

Todd took another drink and looked over to where Sam and Dean were sitting. “So are her and Dylan still--”

 

“No,” Danny interrupted quickly. “They’re not. She broke it off a-- a few weeks ago or something, Dad.”

 

Todd nodded and looked over at Dean and Sam again. “They know?” he asked, nudging Danny again.

 

Danny glanced over at Sam and Dean, who were watching the game closely. “I’m sure.” He looked back at Todd. “What’s up with the twenty questions?”

 

Todd smiled faintly and shook his head. “Nothing. Just thinking out loud.”

 

“Well, why are you thinking about who Dyl is or isn’t dating?” Danny asked. He sat up straighter when Dylan intercepted a pass and began running. “Come on, Dyl!” he yelled, ready to push himself up. “Thirty!” he yelled. “Come on!”

 

Todd watched Dylan running down the field, smiling the more excited Danny became. 

 

Sam lifted his head, both he and Dean grinning when they heard Danny’s yelling and cheers. He turned back to the field, foot bouncing up and down on the bleachers.

 

Dean nudged Sam and beamed proudly, standing up quickly when Dylan finally made it into the end zone. He yelled and clapped loudly, hands above his head. “Woo, Dylan!” he yelled.

 

Dylan grinned and threw the ball down, raising his arms above his head. He nodded proudly and pretended to brush dirt off the shoulders off of his jersey, before he just laughed loudly, waving over at the crowd.

 

Danny cheered and clapped his hands, grinning down at the field. He finally sat back down, looking over at Sam and Dean, who were watching him back. He waved once before settling back into his seat, trying to stop grinning. “So uh…” he took a deep breath, looking over at Todd, “what were we talking about?”

 

Todd smiled and patted Danny on the shoulder. “Dylan.”

 

“Oh,” Danny said, nodding once. “Uh yeah. He’s not dating anybody.” He rolled his lips into his mouth and watched Dylan in his number thirty jersey making his way back up the field. 

 

Todd leaned back and looked over at Sam and Dean, who were watching him knowingly. He nodded over at them and straightened back up. “So when’s your first game again?”

 

“Nineteenth,” Danny replied automatically. He reached his arms above his head, popping his shoulders. “Need new shin pads.”

 

“I know,” Todd said. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

 

Danny shrugged, watching the quarterback. “Nothing, probably. Dylan has practice.”

 

Todd smiled and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay. You wanna go shopping then?”

 

Danny shrugged again. “Yeah, sure,” he said flatly, “shopping.” He looked over at Todd, who was just watching him in amusement. “What?” he asked.

 

Todd shook his head. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it. Just watch the game.” 

 

Danny nodded and looked back to the field, tongue coming out to wet his lips as he watched Dylan.

 

Dean cleared his throat and nudged Sam, smiling over at Danny. “So uh…this is getting kind of funny, huh?”

 

Sam smiled and chuckled softly, shaking his head. “I don’t know. Little sad. I just wish one of them would just do something about it and stop making the kissy faces at each other.”

 

Dean laughed loudly. “Kissy faces? I don’t think I’ve ever seen either one of them making kissy faces. God. Well, maybe Danny. But my son does not make kissy faces.”

 

Sam laughed again, straightening up, cracking his back. He glanced over at Danny, smiling faintly when he saw that Danny was still watching Dylan. 

 

* * * *

 

Danny pushed his hair off of his forehead and yawned loudly as he opened the door, stepping outside. He shivered once, walking down the porch. 

 

Dylan ran down the steps, the dog bounding after him. He clapped his hands and reached down, scratching King Chuck. He grinned when he noticed Danny, shirtless and in his pyjama pants.

 

Danny looked across the street when he heard the dog bark before leaning down to grab the newspaper. 

 

“Danny!” Dylan called from his driveway, waving at him.

 

Danny looked up and stood up slowly, smiling over at Dylan. “Hey, Dyl,” he said, walking down his driveway.

 

“Be careful boy,” Dylan said to King Chuck, before jogging across the street. “What’s going on?”

 

Danny shook his head and wrapped his arms around himself, still smiling at Dylan. “Uh, nothing much, just…getting the paper. Walking Chuck?” He cleared his throat and gave him a quick nod, really wishing he had grabbed his t-shirt when he got up.

 

Dylan grinned and nodded, reaching down to scratch the dog. “Yeah, Mom was making breakfast and Dad was still in bed.”

 

Danny nodded. “Yeah, Dad’s watching TV.”

 

Dylan glanced over Danny’s shoulder at the house, nodding once. “So what are you doing today?” he asked, bouncing up and down on his feet a couple of times.

 

Danny shrugged, glancing back at his house. “Uh, I don’t really know. I gotta go get shin pads today--”

 

“Oh, your first game is coming up soon, right?” Dylan interrupted.

 

“Uh, yeah,” Danny nodded. “Nineteenth.”

 

“Saturday?” Dylan asked, reaching up to scratch at his neck. 

 

Danny shook his head slowly. “Uh no, it’s a-- a Friday. Guess you can’t come, huh? Probably have a game yourself.”

 

Dylan dropped his head and nodded, thinking. “Yeah, I probably do. Hmm.” He tried to smile over at Danny. “Sorry. I mean, who knows…I don’t really have my schedule yet. And they’d probably be at different times too and--”

 

“It’s fine, Dyl,” Danny assured him, rubbing at the back of his neck. “It’s uh…it’s fine. I’m sure you’ll make it to one of my games. Eventually.” He sighed and gave Dyl a quick smile. “Anyway, me and Dad are going to get shin pads. I need new ones. What about you?”

 

“Practice at two,” Dylan replied, biting the inside of his bottom lip.

 

“Yeah,” Danny breathed. “They sure do work you guys a lot, huh?”

 

Dylan grinned and shrugged. “Well, we’re the Lancers.”

 

Danny nodded slowly. “Uh yeah, Dyl, I know. Our teams all have the same names. I’m a Lancer too.”

 

“Right,” Dylan said softly. He looked around and shifted on his feet, nodding slowly. “Oh, hey!”

 

Danny looked up at Dylan, eyebrow raised. 

 

“What are you doing tonight?” Dylan asked. “I mean…after the shopping. Tonight.”

 

Danny thought for a moment before just shrugging. “Um, I don’t know. Nothing, I guess. Unless Dad makes me do something. Which…he probably won’t.”

 

“You wanna go to a party?” Dylan asked, trying not to sound too eager. “I mean, there’s a party tonight and I think I’m sort of expected to go.”

 

“Football, right?” Danny asked, shifting on his feet, picking at his pyjama pants. “I mean…a party for the football players, right?”

 

“Yeah, but you know me and parties, Dan,” Dylan smiled, “and I think it’d all just be a lot cooler if you came with me.”

 

Danny glanced back at his house and sighed, pushing a couple of his curls behind his ear. “I uh, I don’t know Dylan. I mean, you’re a Lancer. And the football kind, which means you’re infinitely cooler than I’ll ever be. Eli Munsel doesn’t even know who I am.”

 

“Eli Munsel doesn’t even know who I am,” Dylan pointed out, “and I shower with him.”

 

Danny stared at Dylan, before a smile started and he couldn’t help himself as he began to laugh. “Did you mean for that to sound as gay as it did?”

 

Dylan laughed and shook his head. “No, actually, I didn’t. But c’mon Danny, now’s your chance to get Eli to notice you.” He reached out, shoving Danny playfully.

 

“Great,” Danny murmured sarcastically, “but…sure. Yeah. You and me, Eli Munsel’s house. When you want me to pick you up?”

 

Dylan shrugged, clapping his hands a couple times to get King Chuck back over to him. “Whenever. People go late to those things, don’t they?”

 

“Just be ready around nine,” Danny smiled, reaching down to let the dog lick his hand. “If that’s not fashionably late enough for you, we can stop somewhere on the way.”

 

Dylan grinned and nodded. “Yeah alright, that’s cool. I’ll talk to you later.”

 

Danny tipped the newspaper at Dylan, nodding. “I guess you will.”

 

Dylan started off down the sidewalk, glancing back to watch Danny walk back up his driveway, pyjama pants hanging low on his hips. “Hey, Danny!” he called.

 

“Hmm?” Danny lifted his head, turning back to Dylan.

 

“Have fun shopping!” Dylan grinned, nodding once at Danny.

 

Danny smiled back, giving Dylan a quick wave. “Oh I will!” He shook his head and walked back up his driveway, taking the steps up the porch, pulling the door open. “Hey Dad, am I doing anything tonight?” he asked, pulling on his pants.

 

Todd walked out of the living room, taking a drink of his orange juice. “Uh…how am I supposed to know if you’re doing anything tonight? Are you?”

 

Danny sighed and handed Todd the newspaper, pulling open the refrigerator door. “I think I’m going to a party. With Dylan.”

 

Todd nodded once and took another drink. “Cool. Sounds like fun.”

 

“Yeah,” Danny agreed, pouring his own drink, “it does.” He brought his glass up and took a drink, smiling all the while.

 

* * * *

 

Sam sighed and leaned into Dean, their lips moving together gently, Dean’s fist lightly grabbing onto Sam’s shirt, pulling him in. “Love you,” he breathed, pulling back to run his fingers through Dean’s short hair.

 

Dean grinned and nodded, sitting up slightly. “God, I tell ya, that’s what I needed. Good make-out session.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes and leaned in, giving Dean another kiss. “Where’s Dylan again?” he asked, smiling weakly. 

 

“Walk,” Dean replied, pressing his hands against Sam’s chest, pushing him off him. He grinned and shifted on the couch, legs going over Sam’s hips. “He’s got practice this afternoon.” He pushed his fingers through Sam’s hair, almost digging into Sam’s skull.

 

Sam nodded and tilted his head up, nipping at Dean’s lips. “Yeah I know, I’ll take him if you want.” He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. He sighed, before he opened his mouth and yawned loudly, laughing afterwards. “Or you can take him, whatever.”

 

Dean grinned and shifted against Sam, wrapping an arm around his neck. He rolled his lips into his mouth and smiled, shifting again. “Did you see the way Danny was watching him last night?”

 

Sam rolled his eyes, laughing again. “Uh, yeah Dean, everybody saw the way Danny was watching him last night. And if it wasn’t Danny, I’d smack him and tell ‘em to stop staring at my baby.”

 

Dean laughed, lifting his head. “Did you see those interceptions?” he asked. “I taught him that.”

 

“The coach taught him that,” Sam corrected, before kissing the tip of Dean’s nose. “But yes, I saw them. I was there, you know. I was there and I was watching.”

 

Dean sighed, looking back when he heard the door open. “Hey, Dyl!” he called.

 

“Hi,” Dylan said, wiping the sweat off of his brow, toeing off his sneakers.

 

Dean grinned and his tongue came out to wet his lips. “How was the walk?”

 

“Good,” Dylan nodded, walking into the living room. “Nice, I guess. Oh, um…I’m going to a party tonight.”

 

“You made plans on your walk?” Sam asked, looking over at Dylan.

 

Dylan shrugged before he nodded jerkily. “Uh, yeah. It’s a party at Eli Munsel’s house an--”

 

“The quarterback?” Dean asked, moving off of Sam, dropping down to the couch.

 

Dylan nodded. “And Danny’s taking me. He’s driving. That’s fine, right?”

 

Dean tried not to smile as he looked back at Sam, just nodding slowly. “Yeah sure, that’s fine. I’m sure it’ll be fun. You and Danny always seem to have a good time.”

 

Sam raised an eyebrow and smiled over at Dylan. “Just don’t be home too late. That’s all I have to say.”

 

“I won’t be,” Dylan assured them. “I’m just gonna go run and change into something…not sweaty.”

 

Dean nodded and shifted on the couch, settling into the cushions. He waited until Dylan was in his bedroom before he grinned, nudging Sam with his foot. “They’re going on a date!” he cried, sitting up. 

 

“Dean, it’s not a date,” Sam said flatly. “Dylan invited Danny and in case you haven’t noticed, Dylan is freaking oblivious to--”

 

“It’s a date,” Dean interrupted. “I know my son, and I know Danny. It’s definitely a date.”

 

“Dean!” Sam exclaimed. “It isn’t. Don’t put that kind of pressure on him. Dylan still isn’t sure what he feels about Danny, don’t make this into something Dylan doesn’t want it to be.” He sighed, cocking his head to the side. “Don’t.”

 

Dean sighed before finally nodding, pushing himself up to give Sam a quick kiss. “Okay fine, it’s not a date. But if it does turn out to be,” he grinned again, “we gotta be ready for Danny dropping Dylan off.”

 

Sam opened his mouth to say something but was quickly cut off by Dean’s mouth on his.

 

Dean’s tongue curled around Sam’s before he pulled back, meeting Sam’s eyes. “Dude. Shut up and just let me enjoy this.”

 

* * * *

 

“So uh,” Todd looked over Danny’s shoulder, pretending to study the shin pads, “where’s this party again?”

 

“Eli Munsel’s house,” Danny replied, pulling one of the shin pads off the shelf. “Quarterback. I don’t really know exactly where he lives. Somewhere rich, I’m sure. Gated.”

 

Todd nodded slowly, taking the shin pads from Danny. “Okay so…no drinking, no drugs.”

 

“I don’t,” Danny reminded him, “do either of those things, I mean. It’s just a party, Dad.”

 

“And I remember what I did at parties when I was sixteen,” Todd said. He stepped back and looked around, studying soccer balls. “You want a new one, to practice with?”

 

Danny shrugged. “Whatever. No need, last year’s one is still good.”

 

Todd nodded. “You know uh, Dan, I…you’ve mellowed out a lot since you were a kid.”

 

Danny looked over at Todd, raising an eyebrow. “Just grew up, Dad. Once I stopped being a kid, that whole thing got a bit old.”

 

Todd smiled faintly and nodded, shifting on his feet. “Or you know, you’re trying to get somebody to-- to think of you in a way they never thought of you before.”

 

Danny sighed and grabbed another pair of shin pads, studying them. “I have the feeling that if I wasn’t gay, you wouldn’t care this much about my love life.”

 

“Yeah well…” Todd swallowed hard and trailed off, “I have the feeling that if you didn’t have a thing for your best friend, I wouldn’t care this much about your love life. Danny, I’m your father. I care. Girls or boys, I care. It’s my job. I just want you happy.”

 

“I am happy,” Danny insisted, handing the shin pads over to his father. “Dad, it’s just a party. Okay? It’s nothing. Are you done?”

 

Todd rolled his eyes but smiled anyway, nodding. “Yeah, yeah, I’m done. I’m just saying, it could be nice.”

 

“Dylan doesn’t like me like that Dad,” Danny murmured, pulling a soccer ball of the shelf. “He likes people like Stacy.”

 

“Girls?” Todd offered.

 

Danny smiled weakly. “Yeah. Girls. He doesn’t know what he wants.”

 

“Then how do you know what he wants?” Todd asked. “Dan--”

 

“It’s Danny,” Danny snapped, shoving the soccer ball into Todd’s arms. “I’ll be in the car.” He pushed past his father, storming across the store.

 

Todd dropped his eyes and sighed, shifting the shin pads and the soccer ball in his arms. He looked up and watched Danny push the door open, going outside. He watched him for a moment longer before walking over to the cashier, setting the items on the counter.

 

* * * *

 

Dylan pulled off his helmet and pushed his sweaty hair off of his forehead, walking over to the sidelines. He grabbed his water bottle and sat down on the bench, taking a drink. He swallowed hard and wiped at his forehead, watching the cheerleaders practice across the field. He rolled his lips into his mouth, watching Stacy and another girl practice their side hurdlers. 

 

“Hey Thirty,” another player said, taking a seat on the bench beside Dylan. 

 

“Hi Macon,” Dylan replied, trying not to laugh as some of the other cheerleaders started practicing some cheesy cheer.

 

“Watching the girls, huh?” Macon asked, grabbing his water bottle. 

 

Dylan shrugged before nodding, taking another drink. “Just taking a break. Watching Eli try the Fumblerooski was just…too much for me, I guess.”

 

Macon grinned and nodded, squirting some of the water onto his forehead, sighing in relief. “Especially on such a fucking warm day. Somebody should tell him that it’s illegal!” he yelled in the direction of the players still practicing.

 

Dylan laughed softly, shifting away from Macon, reaching down to scratch at his leg. “You’re going to his party tonight though, right?”

 

Macon smiled and nodded, pushing his black hair up. “Well, yeah. He’s the quarterback. I’m the center. That’s sort of what I do.”

 

Dylan smiled understandingly, taking another drink. 

 

“What about you?” Macon asked. “Taking Stacy? I heard she’s going.”

 

Dylan shook his head. “I mean…I’m going, but not with Stacy. We’re not together.”

 

“Dude, you don’t have to be together to go together,” Macon pointed out. “She’s hot. And everybody knows about you two.”

 

Dylan sighed and dropped his eyes, before pushing himself up. “There’s nothing to know, Macon. We’re not together. Besides, I’m just going with a friend for fun.”

 

“Ford, right?” Macon asked, following Dylan back onto the field, helmet in hand. “Soccer guy?”

 

Dylan nodded and pulled his helmet back on. “Danny.”

 

“He’s the gay one, right?” Macon asked, moving into his position on the field, grabbing the ball from Eli.

 

“Let’s just call him the soccer one, okay?” Dylan muttered, moving away from Macon and Eli, getting into position. “Or Danny, that would work too.” He rolled his eyes and shook his head, trying to get his head back into the practice. He looked up when Stacy began leading another cheer as the other cheerleaders began to move in position for a basket toss.

 

“You might be good at basketball, you might be good at track. But when it comes to football, you might as well step back!” Stacy cheered, clapping her hands above her head. Behind her, a girl was thrown into the air as Stacy and a few others continued with the cheer. “You might as well step back, can't hear you! Might as well step back. Go Lancers!”

 

Once the cheer was over, Macon snapped the ball back to Eli and Dylan began running.

 

* * * *

 

Dylan stepped out of the bathroom, towel around his waist, smiling when smelled supper. “Smells good, Dad,” he said, walking through the kitchen.

 

Dean grinned and brought the spoon up to his mouth, tasting his spaghetti sauce. “Tastes good too. You’re gonna have some, right?”

 

Dylan nodded. “Yeah, of course. I need to put all of those calories back on that I burned off today.”

 

Dean laughed and began stirring the pot again, glancing back to watch Dylan make his way through the house. “Maybe you should start changing in the bathroom!” he called after him.

 

“Okay!” Dylan called back, even though he had no intention to start doing so. He made his way down to his bedroom, walking inside. He pushed the door closed behind him and walked over to his dresser, grabbing a clean pair of boxers and a t-shirt. He dropped his towel and half-dried himself off, pulling on his boxers. He dropped his head and began running the towel through his hair, before straightening back up. He pulled on his t-shirt and dropped the towel onto the floor, walking over to his closet.

 

“Open up,” Dean prompted, holding the spoon up to Sam’s mouth.

 

“Dean, I can just wait,” Sam pointed out, wiggling against the counter, trying to get Dean to move.

 

“Just taste it,” Dean whined, pressing Sam up against the counter. “It’s good, I promise.”

 

Sam sighed and smiled, finally opening his mouth for Dean. He closed his mouth around the spoon and moaned softly, nodding. “It’s good,” he admitted after a few moments, tongue coming out to lick at his lips, getting all traces off the sauce off.

 

Dean grinned and leaned in, giving Sam a soft kiss. “I’m happy you liked it.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes and lifted Dean’s hand off of the counter, walking past him. “You know you can cook, Dean,” he said, sitting down at the dining table. “Why do I have to taste test everything?”

 

Dean smiled and turned back to the stove. “I’m just trying to fatten you up, Sammy.” He glanced back at Sam, who was trying not to laugh. “I like my men big.”

 

Sam threw his head back and laughed loudly. “Well I’m pretty sure that you’re not leaving me now, so I guess that I can let myself go.”

 

“Damn right,” Dean muttered, reaching out to turn off the stove.

 

“Need any help?” Sam asked, reaching up to scratch at his neck. “I can…pour sauce, or something.”

 

“You can get the drinks,” Dean said, lifting one of the pots off of the stove.

 

“I can,” Sam agreed, pushing himself up, walking over to the refrigerator.

 

Dylan pulled out a pair of jeans and threw them over onto his bed, turning back to look for a shirt. He finally just grabbed a couple of dark t-shirts and threw them over by his jeans. He leaned down and grabbed his towel, throwing it over his shoulder as he made his way out of his bedroom. 

 

Sam and Dean looked up when Dylan walked by them, throwing his towel into the bathroom. 

 

“So…what time is he picking you up?” Sam asked, setting Dylan’s plate in front of him, trying just to smile, instead of grin.

 

Dylan shrugged and picked up his fork, bringing his feet up onto the chair. “Nine, or something. Around then.”

 

Sam looked down at his watch before he sat down beside Dylan, nodding. “Yeah, that sounds good. So, where does Eli Munsel live, anyway?”

 

“He lives with his mom here,” Dylan replied, spinning spaghetti around his fork, “on Domingo Place--”

 

“Holy crap,” Dean muttered, “he’s loaded. The houses there are--”

 

“But the party’s at his dad’s,” Dylan continued, “in Huntington Beach.”

 

Sam’s jaw dropped and he stared at Dylan in disbelief. “Huntington Beach? As in…homes cost seven million dollars Huntington Beach?”

 

Dylan nodded. “His dad is like, insanely rich, and his mom got a lot from the divorce.”

 

“So uh, how close to the water does he live?” Dean asked. “In Huntington Beach I mean, not here.”

 

“Well, I think his house came with a boat dock,” Dylan replied, “so…really close? I don’t know, I’ve never been. Anyway, apparently the house is amazing.”

 

“I’m sure,” Sam murmured. “I can’t believe I never knew you were on the same football team as a-- as a millionaire.”

 

“He’s not a millionaire,” Dylan began, finally taking a bite of his spaghetti, “his parents are. Or his dad is. Anyway, it’s not that big of a deal. Danny can barely stand the guy, he just agreed to go to get me to shut up.”

 

“I doubt that,” Dean said, smiling over at Dylan.

 

“Um…okay?” Dylan frowned, reaching out for his glass of water. “I mean, he really didn’t wanna go.” He shifted in his seat, sliding down a little.

 

“Straighter,” Sam said automatically, reaching out to press his hand against Dylan’s back, making him sit up. “Thank you.” He took a bite of his spaghetti before stretching one of legs out, purposely kicking Dean in the shin.

 

“Jesus,” Dean muttered, dropping his fork. “What was that for?”

 

Sam cocked his head to the side and glared at Dean, kicking him again.

 

“Are you guys okay?” Dylan asked, straightening up even further.

 

“Fine,” Dean gritted, leaning down to rub at his leg, “just fine.” He stared at Sam in disbelief, picking up his fork again. “You know what time you two are gonna be heading home?”

 

Dylan shook his head, taking a bite of his spaghetti. “No. Probably not too late, I don’t think Danny will be able to stand it for that long. He really doesn’t like Eli.”

 

“Well, just take your phone,” Sam said, “in case Danny wants to leave and you don’t, or you want to leave and he doesn’t. We’ll come and get you.”

 

“Okay,” Dylan nodded, giving his parents a quick smile.

 

* * * *

 

Danny pulled on his jacket and sighed, flipping the collar up before making a face and putting it back down. He bit his lip and glanced back at Todd before finally getting it how he wanted it. “I’m just-- I’m just gonna go now, Dad.”

 

Todd nodded as he rinsed the dishes off, nodding down at Danny’s phone. “Take it, please.”

 

Danny nodded and grabbed his phone, dropping it into his pocket. “I’ll see you later. You waiting up?”

 

Todd grinned and reached out, patting Danny’s shoulders. “Are Dylan’s parents?”

 

Danny shrugged. “Uh…I’m assuming at least one of them will.”

 

Todd thought for a moment, before nodding once. “Yeah, I think I can make it that late.” He laughed softly, glancing down at his watch. “Tell me all of the great stories. And please let one of them involve shoving Munsel off his boat dock. Rich little bastard.”

 

Danny smiled and laughed softly, grabbing his car keys. “I’ll see you later, Dad,” he said, waving once before opening the door, stepping out into the night. He hopped down the stairs of the patio and walked out his car, climbing in. He stuck the key in the ignition and began pulling out of the driveway, stopping for a moment before pulling out onto the road, driving only a couple of feet before turning and pulling into the Winchester’s driveway. 

 

“He’s here!” Dean called from the kitchen, looking up when he heard Dylan making his way up from his bedroom.

 

Danny stepped into the porch and knocked on the kitchen door once before pushing the door open. “Hey Dean, hi Sam.”

 

“Danny,” Sam said, nodding once. “How are you?”

 

“Good,” Danny replied, nodding eagerly. “Uh, are you ready Dyl?” he asked, looking over when Dylan walked into the kitchen.

 

Dylan studied Danny for a quick moment. “Shit, I should probably get a jacket.”

 

“Dylan,” Sam said in exasperation, “language.” He smiled over Dylan, reaching out for his drink.

 

Danny grinned and laughed softly, looking back up when Dylan pulled on his jacket, fixing his hood. “Yeah?” he asked, stepping back out into the porch.

 

Dylan nodded before hurrying over to the table, wrapping his arms around Sam’s neck, kissing his cheek quickly before doing the same to Dean. “Love ya!” he called, going after Danny.

 

“Bye,” Sam said back, nodding once at Danny before he closed the door.

 

Dylan smiled and walked over to the passenger side, climbing into Danny’s car. “I like your jacket,” he said, doing his seatbelt.

 

Danny smiled and climbed into the car, pulling his own seatbelt on. He turned the key and the engine roared back to life and he began pulling out of the driveway. “Yeah, thanks,” he said softly, glancing in the rear view mirror. He pulled onto the road and turned left, glancing over at Dylan. “Have you ever been to an Eli Munsel party?”

 

Dylan shook his head, fingers tapping against the door. “No. You?”

 

“One,” Danny replied, pulling a quick stop before turning right. “Last year.”

 

“Hmm,” Dylan murmured quietly, “how was it?”

 

“I’m not sure you’re gonna like it, Dylan,” Danny said, glancing over at him. “People at our school think you’re the golden child.”

 

Dylan rolled his eyes. “I can handle people drinking, Danny. I can handle people smoking pot. Just ‘cause I don’t do it doesn’t mean I’m a complete prude about it.” He sighed, picking at his jeans. “Do you do that stuff?”

 

“Dylan, how long have you known me?” Danny asked, looking over at Dylan.

 

Dylan thought for a moment. “Thirteen and a half years.”

 

“Do I do that stuff?” Danny asked, smiling weakly.

 

Dylan smiled back and shook his head. “No, you don’t do that stuff.”

 

“I’ll keep ya safe, Dyl,” Danny assured him, “I promise. Dope is…wait, what is again? Dope is dope, or something?”

 

“I don’t know,” Dylan smiled. “Crack is whack?”

 

“I think I’m thinking of only dopes do dope,” Danny said, “or something. Who knows.” He looked over at Dylan and began to laugh. “Whatever, not important. The point is, if you don’t want to do it, I’ll make sure that people know it.”

 

Dylan rolled his eyes and grinned, reaching out to pat Danny’s leg. “Oh, my knight in shining armour,” he joked, gently squeezing Danny’s thigh.

 

Danny cleared his throat and shifted awkwardly, glancing over at Dylan, who quickly withdrew his hand. “Uh yeah. I guess so. We’ll just stick together at the party. Okay?”

 

Dylan nodded and bit the inside of his lip, giving Danny a quick smile. “Sounds good to me.” He shifted and leaned down, turning on the radio, quickly finding a station with a good song. He grinned and began nodding to the beat, settling into his seat.

 

Danny glanced over at Dylan, studying him for a moment, before giving him a smile.

 

* * * *

 

Dylan pushed open the door, looking around the house in awe as he walked in, Danny close behind him. “This place is amazing,” he said, leaning up to Danny, trying to speak over the loud music.

 

“Yeah, I know!” Danny agreed, looking around the large living room. He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, not sure why he had agreed to come with Dylan.

 

“You okay?” Dylan asked loudly, looking up at Danny.

 

Danny nodded. “Yeah, fine! Just--” he waved his hand towards the speakers before tapping his ear, “loud!”

 

“Yeah!” Dylan nodded, looking around, before reaching back, grasping onto Danny’s arm. “Come on!”

 

“Where are we going?” Danny asked, following after him.

 

Dylan shrugged, looking around the house. “On a tour!”

 

Danny smiled and pushed past a couple of people, nodding apologetically at them. “It’s just a house, Dyl.”

 

Dylan shook his head. “It’s not just a house, Danny,” he said, stepping into the kitchen, the music slightly quieter in there. “It’s amazing.” He pushed himself up onto the counter, smiling at Danny. “So what do we do at these things?”

 

Danny shrugged. “I’m…not sure. I think I’m the wrong person to ask. You’re probably expected to hunt out your football ‘buddies’, get shit-faced and get to second with some girl in one of the bedrooms. Now me…I have no idea.”

 

Dylan hopped off the counter, moving out of the way when a small group of people walked into the kitchen. “Well, I don’t really have plans to do any of those things.”

 

Danny smiled. “How did you ever make it onto the football team, Dyl?”

 

One of the other guys in the kitchen looked over at them, a huge grin on his face. “Football? You’re on the team?”

 

Dylan’s eyes went wide and he looked at Danny, who was just grinning, before looking back at the other boy. “Uh, yeah. Thirty. Cornerback.”

 

“Eli’s outside on the dock,” the guy said, grabbing onto Dylan’s shoulder as he walked by again. “You might wanna go see him.”

 

“Uh, why?” Dylan asked Danny, stepping towards him.

 

Danny shrugged. “He probably wants to put a collar on all of his lackeys or something.”

 

“You’re so freaking negative,” Dylan said, walking out of the kitchen. “Are you coming with me or not?” he asked, glancing back at him.

 

“Yeah, sure,” Danny muttered, following after Dylan. He looked outside, trying not to feel jealous at Eli for getting to live somewhere with such a gorgeous view. He sighed and held the door open for Dylan, stepping outside out onto the patio. “The dock’s over here,” he said, leading Dylan around the house.

 

“It’s so nice here,” Dylan said softly, looking around.

 

“Yeah well, try to keep the doe eyes down,” Danny murmured, clearing his throat when Eli and his group came into sight. “Well, there he is.”

 

“What should I do?” Dylan asked, looking up at Danny. 

 

“Just go stand next to him or something,” Danny said, giving Dylan a slight push. “Wait until he talks to you.” He nodded and pushed Dylan again.

 

Dylan looked back at Danny, who was just nodding. He cleared his throat and brushed by a couple of people, stopping by the end of the dock, shoving his hands in his pockets, nodding slowly.

 

Eli looked up and smiled, lifting his hand. “CB, right?”

 

“Uh, yeah,” Dylan said, stepping towards him. “Thirty.”

 

Eli nodded and reached his hand out to Dylan. “You having fun?”

 

Dylan shrugged, looking around before nodding once. “We just sort of got here, actually.”

 

“We?” Eli asked, looking around before he noticed Danny. “Ten, right? Soccer?”

 

Dylan nodded. “Yeah, Danny.”

 

Eli took a drink of his beer, standing up slowly. “I thought you’d bring that cheerleader.”

 

Dylan looked up at Eli, shaking his head. “Uh, no, we-- we’re not together.”

 

Eli shrugged. “Like that’d matter. I can hook you up with anybody else you see here, if you want. There’s always a room free upstairs.”

 

Dylan swallowed hard and shook his head. “Uh no, thank you, but that’s-- I’m fine. Danny and I just came to hang out.”

 

Eli nodded, looking back over at Danny. “I think people are taking the boat out. People in the living room playing video games. Drinks, whatever else you want. Have fun though right, CB?”

 

Dylan nodded. “Yeah, sure. Can do. Or…will do. Nice house.”

 

Eli smiled and looked back at his friends. “Yeah. My dad does enough boob jobs and this is what he gets. Sounds like a pretty sweet deal, huh?”

 

“Yeah,” Dylan agreed quietly. “I’m just gonna-- Danny and I are just gonna--”

 

“Sure,” Eli nodded. “Whatever. I’ll see you later.”

 

Dylan gave Eli a quick smile, turning back around, ready to walk away before he felt Eli’s hand on his shoulder. “Yeah?” he asked, looking back at him.

 

“Since I found out that my Fumblerooski is illegal,” Eli began, taking another drink, “you got any good plays that’ll make me shine?” He grinned, bringing the can up to his mouth again.

 

Dylan looked over at Danny, who was shifting impatiently, hands in his pockets. “Uh…” he trailed off, looking back over at Eli, “if you can do it--”

 

“I can do it,” Eli interrupted.

 

“The Statue of Liberty,” Dylan finished. “Get it right and…you’d be a star.”

 

Eli thought for a moment before nodding. “Well, an even bigger one. But thanks CB, I’ll uh, talk to Coach about it.”

 

Dylan nodded and turned back around, stumbling a couple of steps before straightening back up, walking over to Danny. “There’s…video games in the living room or something.”

 

Danny nodded and turned back around, walking slowly, looking at the water. “We could always go swimming. He has a heated pool.”

 

Dylan rolled his eyes. “He lives by the ocean.”

 

“Rich people aren’t like us, Dyl,” Danny said, wrapping an arm around Dylan’s shoulders, “they need it all and then some.”

 

Dylan sighed. “Come on. Let’s…go find something to do. Or eat. Or anything.” He looked up at Danny, chewing on the inside of his cheek. 

 

“Come on,” Danny said, opening the porch door into the kitchen, letting Dylan step inside first. “Too bad we don’t drink, huh? This party’d be a helluva lot more interesting.”

 

Dylan smiled and opened the refrigerator, smiling when he noticed a bowl of strawberries. He glanced back at Danny and reached in, grasping onto the dish, pulling it out. “Here, I guess you can have these.”

 

“Nice,” Danny murmured, taking the bowl. “Now it’s a party. Come on, Dylan, risk the hives!”

 

Dylan shook his head and rolled his eyes, looking for something for him to eat. He sighed frowned. “Whipped cream,” he said after a moment, reaching in to pull out the container. “And soda. Alright. Where do you wanna go?” He shoved the bottles under his arm, looking at Danny.

 

Danny shrugged and grabbed onto one of the strawberries, taking a bite. “Wherever.”

 

Dylan thought for a moment, looking around the house, realizing that there really were people everywhere. “Um…Eli said there’s always--”

 

“You wanna get a room to eat in?” Danny asked, trying not to laugh. “Um, okay. Let’s hope nobody opens the door, how would we ever explain it?”

 

Dylan shoved Danny playfully, walking over to the staircase. “Come on, Danny. I bet there’s a TV and video games and everything. We just gotta find the right room.” He began up the stairs, not even glancing back to make sure that Danny was following him. 

 

Danny followed after Dylan, holding that he didn’t slip and drop the bowl. He looked down the hall when they came to the second floor, glancing at Dylan. “Okay uh, what room?”

 

Dylan shrugged and walked a couple of doors down before knocking on one, trying the handle. “Sorry!” he called when he saw someone in there and tried not to laugh before going to the next room. He sighed in relief when he realized it was empty and stepped inside, flicking on the lights.

 

Danny walked into the room and closed the door with his foot, handing the whipped cream over to Dylan, looking around the huge room for the television remote. “Score!” he exclaimed, grabbing onto the remote. He flopped down on the king-sized bed and turned on the television, lying back. “Awesome bed,” he murmured, grabbing onto a strawberry. 

 

Dylan shrugged off his jacket and sat down on the bed beside Danny, handing him the container of whipped cream.

 

Danny popped the top and stuck the strawberry in, bringing it up to his mouth. “What do you wanna watch?” he asked Dylan, mouth full of fruit.

 

Dylan shook his head, grabbing one of the pillows. “Whatever. Anything has to be better than that party.”

 

Danny smiled. “I told you they wouldn’t be your thing, Dyl,” he reminded him, finding a movie on the television.

 

“Sorry,” Dylan apologized quietly, meeting Danny’s eyes. “I shouldn’t’ve asked you to come.”

 

Danny shrugged. “It’s fine. We haven’t hung out in awhile. And if I wasn’t here, you’d be the weirdo eating and drinking alone in one of the bedrooms.”

 

“What movie is this?” Dylan asked, shifting on the mattress.

 

Danny checked the info on the television, letting Dylan read it. “The Haunting,” he said softly, “nineteen sixty-three. Jesus. That’s…”

 

“More than fifty years old,” Dylan finished. “Wow. Think it’s scary?”

 

Danny shrugged. “Who knows? Looks okay. We can watch it till you get scared,” he smiled.

 

“Shut up,” Dylan muttered, grabbing his bottle of root beer, opening it, taking a drink. He yawned softly and shifted on the mattress again.

 

“Tired?” Danny asked softly, reaching over for his bottle of soda.

 

Dylan nodded and rubbed at his eyes. “The game last night, then practice today…” he yawned again, shaking his head. 

 

“Want me to take you home?” Danny asked, pushing himself up onto his elbows.

 

Dylan shook his head and reached over to grab the remote, turning the television up just a little. “No, I’m good. This is fun. It’s like a slumber party.”

 

Danny laughed and sat up, looking around the room. “I would bet there is food somewhere in this room for you to eat. There’s gotta be a fridge.” He wandered around, glancing over at the television every so often, before making his way into the bathroom. “The tub is bigger than my bed,” he muttered, flicking on the lights.

 

Dylan yawned again and settled into the bed, trying to keep his eyes open, but he could feel them drifting shut.

 

After a couple minutes of exploring the bathroom and then the walk in closet, Danny stepped back out into the bedroom, ready to say something before he realized that Dylan was asleep. He smiled weakly and walked back over to the bed, taking all of the food off of the bed, and unwrapping Dylan’s hand from his bottle of root beer. He shrugged off his jacket and dropped it down onto the floor, climbing back onto the bed beside Dylan. He turned the television back down, shifting on the bed. Danny smiled when Dylan stirred next to him, making a quiet sound. He reached down, brushing Dylan’s hair away from his eyes, leaning down to gently kiss Dylan’s forehead. “Goodnight, Dylan,” he said softly, reaching up to flick off the lights.

 

* * * *

 

Dylan’s eyes slowly drifted open and he blinked a couple of times, the room coming back into focus. He cleared his throat and pushed himself up, looking down at Danny’s watch. “Shit,” he muttered, seeing the time. He patted his pockets for his cell phone and quickly dialed his home number. “Mom?” he asked when someone answered.

 

“Dad,” Dean said flatly, obviously tired and unimpressed. “Tell me you’re in a ditch somewhere so I don’t have to kick your ass.”

 

“We fell asleep,” Dylan explained, “at Eli’s. Sorry. We-- I’m sorry. But we’re fine, I promise. Safe.”

 

Dean sighed in relief and nodded, leaning down to relay the message to Sam. “Are you coming home now or…”

 

“Danny’s still asleep,” Dylan replied, “and I don’t really wanna make him drive if he’s that tired. We’ll leave first thing in the morning, okay?” He heard Dean talking softly to Sam. “Dad?”

 

“Fine,” Dean said before yawning loudly. “I’ll talk to you later.”

 

“Kay, love you,” Dylan said, turning off his phone. He reached over and set it on the nightstand, before slowly and carefully standing up, walking over to the bathroom. He walked in and relieved himself before washing his hands and walking back out into the bedroom. 

 

Danny sighed in his sleep and his fingers flexed around the comforter that was gripped in his hand. “Dylan,” he breathed, rolling onto his back, legs curled up.

 

Dylan swallowed hard and walked back over to the bed, studying Danny carefully. He sat down and listened for a few more moments before bringing his legs up, shifting until he was next to Danny. He looked down at his friend and smiled weakly, reaching out to gently trace Danny’s cheekbones. He smiled and quickly withdrew his hand before lying down, head pillowed by Danny’s chest, and closed his eyes, yawning softly. “Danny,” he said quietly, shifting even closer.

 

* * * *

 

Danny woke up slowly, feeling an unfamiliar weight on his chest. He looked down and was surprised to see Dylan’s blonde hair so close to him, Dylan’s hand clutching onto his shirt. He bit his lip and tilted his head, taking a deep breath.

 

Dylan sighed in his sleep and shifted, cheek pressed against Danny’s shirt. He made a small noise and shifted again, lips smacking in his sleep.

 

“Dylan,” Danny said softly, running his fingers through Dylan’s hair, “Dylan. We gotta go. We’re late. Really late.”

 

“Fi’ mo’ minutes,” Dylan mumbled, eyes moving under the lids. 

 

“Dylan,” Danny said again, “wake up. We really gotta go.”

 

Dylan grumbled and put one hand out, struggling to push himself up. “Dan?” he asked softly, eyes blinking slowly. He reached out with his other hand which slipped on the sheets, sending him back onto Danny’s chest. “Sorry,” he mumbled, trying again.

 

Danny sat up slowly, grasping onto Dylan’s arms, helping him up. “Dyl, it’s six am. We gotta go.”

 

“Called my dad,” Dylan said softly, “told him we fell asleep.” He sighed and met Danny eyes, both of them finally realizing how close they were to each other. He cleared his throat and swallowed hard, eyes flicking down to Danny’s pink lips. He took a deep breath and exhaled, breath hitting Danny’s mouth and Danny’s lips quickly rolled into his mouth. Dylan looked up at Danny, cupping the sides of Danny’s face, shifting his legs. “Don’t do that,” he said softly, meeting Danny’s eyes again. “Don’t. I-- I like your lips.”

 

Danny sighed and his tongue came out to wet his lips, closing his eyes only for a moment. “Dylan, we can’t do this.”

 

“Why not?” Dylan asked, moving his legs until he was straddling Danny’s. “I…I just wanna kiss you.” It was his turn for his tongue to out, wetting his lips, watching Danny carefully. 

 

Danny swallowed hard and tried to jerk his head out of Dylan’s grip. “You’re just a kid, Dylan,” he said softly. “We’ve known each other for--” he was cut off when Dylan’s lips pressed to his, not moving, just there. He pulled back, trying to push Dylan off of him.

 

“Please,” Dylan said softly, kissing Danny again, lips finally moving against Danny’s, gently, before his mouth opened and his tongue came out, licking at Danny’s lips.

 

“Dylan!” Danny exclaimed, finally pushing Dylan off of him, onto the mattress, hands on Dylan’s shoulders. “Stop it, okay? Stop. We can’t.”

 

“Why not?” Dylan asked, looking up at Danny. “I…I want to.”

 

“Want to what?” Danny asked. “Have sex? I’m not having sex with you Dylan, you’re fourt--”

 

“Just date,” Dylan interrupted, sitting up. “Just date. I wanna date you.”

 

“Dylan, you’re not gay,” Danny snapped, shaking his head. “You and Stacy--”

 

“I told you Danny,” Dylan said, “I only went out with her to prove that I wasn’t gay.”

 

“And you proved it!” Danny cried. “The whole school knows that you fucked Stacy Anatoly, they don’t think you’re gay anymore.”

 

“I did it because I really wanted you!” Dylan exclaimed, before he could think about the words coming out of his mouth. “I mean…” he dropped his eyes from Danny’s and he stood up quickly, reaching down to grab his jacket.

 

“You were thirteen,” Danny said in disbelief, “and you wanted me? And of course, all of it just coincidentally aligned with when I came out.”

 

“As soon as I knew what sex was, I thought about you, Danny,” Dylan said, pulling on his jacket. “And then you told me that you were gay and then Stacy told me that everybody thought that we were gay together and--”

 

“Dylan,” Danny interrupted, grabbing his jacket, “you’re too young, okay?”

 

“Too young for what?” Dylan asked. “Too young to like somebody? Too young to kiss somebody?” He swallowed hard to clear his throat. “Too young to have sex?” he asked finally. “Well newsflash, Danny, been there, done that. I’ve waited for-- for more than a year to kiss you.”

 

Danny shook his head and reached out for the doorknob, but Dylan just leaned back against the door, keeping it closed. “Dylan,” he said warningly, “move.”

 

Dylan shook his head. “Please. Let’s just talk about this, okay?” he asked hopefully.

 

“No!” Danny exclaimed. “There is nothing to talk about. Okay? Nothing. I’m gay Dylan, you’re not.”

 

“Why can’t I be gay?” Dylan asked. “You can be gay, but I’m not allowed?”

 

“You had sex with Stacy Anatoly!” Danny pointed out.

 

“My father’s only ever slept with one man,” Dylan said. “Ever. Like, a hundred girls. Just because I was with Stacy doesn’t mean that I can’t like you. Why won’t you even consider it?”

 

“Because you’re two years younger than me,” Danny said, stepping away from the door.

 

“My parents are--”

 

“I don’t care about your parents, Dylan!” Danny yelled. “Your parents would fucking kill me if they knew what I felt about you.” His eyes opened wide and he stared at Dylan in disbelief. “I…I mean…”

 

Dylan shook his head, moving his hand to turn the doorknob. “Just drive me home, okay?” he asked softly, stepping out into the hallway.

 

Danny sighed and shook his head, rubbing at his eyes. He pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. “Fuck,” he muttered, following after Dylan.

 

* * * *

 

“How was the party?” Sam asked when Dylan walked up from his room. “Did you two have fun?”

 

Dylan shrugged before nodding, sitting down at the dining table. “Uh, yeah, I guess. We didn’t really do much. Started to watch a movie but then…I fell asleep.” He sighed and scratched at the back of his neck, looking up when Dean set a box of cereal in front of him. “Thanks.”

 

“You okay?” Dean asked, sitting down across from Dylan. “You look like crap.”

 

Dylan shook his head. “I’m fine. Tired, or something, I guess. I’ll be fine.”

 

Sam glanced over at Dean, who just shrugged. “Uh…” he shifted, bringing his arms up onto the table. “Dylan, is everything okay? Did something happen?”

 

Dylan just poured his cereal before finally nodding. “Did you guys know that-- that Danny likes me?”

 

Dean smiled and looked over at Sam, who was watching him again. “Dyl, I think everybody sort of knew that.”

 

Dylan sighed. “Not me. And I made a fool of myself. I-- I kissed him and then-- then told him I wanted to date him and-- he said that I was too young and then it just came out and then…we didn’t talk, the whole drive home.” He dropped his spoon and wiped at his eyes, clearing his throat. “I kissed him,” he said again.

 

“Wow,” Sam said softly, nodding, reaching out to rub Dylan’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Dyl. It’ll be okay.”

 

Dylan shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “I-- I don’t think that it will be. He doesn’t want to date me. He said I’m too young.”

 

“You’re only fourteen, Dyl,” Dean pointed out softly, “Dan’s sixteen. Two years is a big difference when you’re this young.”

 

“It isn’t for me,” Dylan whined, shaking his head. “It isn’t. He said that I can’t be gay, be-- because of Stacy. But I like him. A lot. More than Stacy. More than anybody.” He dropped his spoon back onto the table and shook his head, pushing his chair back. “I’m gonna g-- I need a shower.”

 

Sam nodded and reached out to Dylan as he walked by, patting his back. “Of course, Dyl,” he said softly. He cleared his throat and waited until Dylan was in te bathroom before he looked over at Dean. “He kissed him.”

 

“I can’t believe Danny didn’t jump at the chance to be with him,” Dean said in disbelief, “he-- I mean, you’ve seen him look at Dylan. He likes him.”

 

“Maybe he just…” Sam shook his head, “I don’t know. I don’t know. I just hope that they’ll figure it out.” He reached out for Dylan’s cereal and grabbed a couple of pieces, throwing them into his mouth. He pushed his chair back and walked over to the cupboards, pulling out a glass.

 

* * * *

 

Todd shifted and watched out the living room window, seeing Dean leave the house with the dog. “Danny, you have to go talk to him. I will make you if I have to. You need to speak to each other.”

 

“I messed it up,” Danny muttered, biting into his toast. “I messed it up and…I told him we couldn’t be like that. I told him he couldn’t be gay.”

 

“What, you copyrighted it or something?” Todd asked. “If the kid wants to like boys, he’s allowed to like boys. Really. You’re not the first.”

 

“That’s not what I meant,” Danny snapped. “Okay? He-- he doesn’t want to be gay. He doesn’t want to date me. He thinks that’s what I want and--”

 

“It is what you want,” Todd pointed out. “Danny, we’re not blind. Sam and Dean know it too. It’s okay to like him. It really is. And he knows now and you know how he feels about you but it doesn’t do any damn good if you’re just going to avoid the conversation the whole freaking time. Talk to him.”

 

Danny swallowed hard and looked out the living room window at the Winchester house, before finally standing up. “F-- fine. Fine. I’ll go. I’ll talk to him.” He sighed and paced around for a moment. “I just gotta get dressed.” He walked by Todd and down the hall to his bedroom, flicking on the lights.

 

* * * *

 

Sam knocked on Dylan’s bedroom door, waiting for a response. “Dylan, you’ve got a visitor.”

 

“Who?” Dylan asked, lifting his head off the pillow.

 

Danny cleared his throat and stepped towards the bedroom door. “Uh, it’s-- it’s me, Dyl. Danny.”

 

Dylan closed his eyes and dropped his head back down. “I thought you didn’t wanna talk about this.”

 

Danny ducked his head in shame, swallowing hard. He looked back up, meeting Sam’s eyes. “Uh…”

 

Sam knocked on the door again, shifting. “Dylan, please open up. Or say that he can come in. He looks really sad about it…if that helps.”

 

Danny smiled faintly, waiting for Dylan to reply.

 

“Fine,” Dylan said eventually, sitting back up. “Whatever.”

 

“Thanks,” Danny said quietly, opening Dylan’s bedroom door. “Hi,” he said, glancing back before closing the door behind him.

 

“Hi,” Dylan said, arms wrapped around his pillow. “What’s up?”

 

Danny shook his head and shifted a couple of times before sitting down on Dylan’s bed, looking at him. “I’m uh…I’m sorry. For what I said. It was stupid. I should’ve just told you the truth.”

 

“What is the truth?” Dylan asked, looking at Danny expectantly.

 

“The truth is I like you,” Danny admitted. “But I…I never said anything or did anything because I thought that you’d freak and think I was like, pressuring you into being gay.”

 

Dylan chuckled and smiled, nodding once. “I talked to my parents. I get it now. Two years is a lot, at our age anyway.”

 

Danny shook his head. “That was a bad excuse,” he said. “Really bad. I…I thought that you didn’t really know what you wanted and you were just trying to make me happy.”

 

“I do know what I want,” Dylan insisted, “and I really like you. I…I liked you before I liked Stacy. Before you came out. It was just scary, liking guys too.”

 

Danny nodded understandingly. “Yeah, I-- I know. I’m still the gay guy at school.”

 

Dylan smiled. “Yeah. I’ve noticed. I’m still the guy that slept with Stacy.”

 

“Probably ‘cause I won’t let you forget it,” Danny smiled back. “I…I was wrong. About everything. Really. I’m sorry for this morning. For pushing you away. It was…” he smiled, laughing softly, “a really good kiss. You’re good at it.”

 

Dylan blushed and looked away from Danny, smiling. “Thanks. Or something. I try.”

 

Danny laughed again, grinning at Dylan. “I really do like you, Dylan. But I-- you slept with Stacy so people wouldn’t think you were dating me. And now you want to date me. It doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

 

“I’ve gotten older,” Dylan explained, “I’ve accepted it. I like you. And apparently, I’m the only one who hasn’t noticed that you like me.”

 

It was Danny’s turn to blush and look away. “I thought it was obvious. I’m kind of surprised you didn’t notice.”

 

Dylan shrugged. “I’m a little slow on the uptake, I guess,” he admitted, shifting on the bed, moving closer to Danny. “I meant what I said this morning.”

 

Danny looked up at him.

 

“I’d really like to date you,” Dylan continued. “Just one date, Danny. An actual date. Instead of just hanging out. But…if you don’t want to, I’d really still like to be your friend, more than anything.”

 

Danny took a deep breath and sighed, before he nodded slowly. “I’d like that too,” he said softly, leaning in to give Dylan a kiss, cupping the back of Dylan’s neck, holding him close.

 

Dylan moaned softly and shifted on the bed, as close to Danny as he could be without actually being on him and pushed his fingers through Danny’s thick hair, getting caught on more than one of his curls.

 

Danny lightly licked at Dylan’s lips before pulling back, swallowing hard as he met Dylan’s eyes. “I meant the dating part.”

 

Dylan grinned and kissed Danny again, still smiling against his lips. “I’m happy,” he admitted, tongue coming out to lick his lips.

 

“Me too,” Danny agreed.

 

Sam closed his eyes and sighed, grinning outside of Dylan’s room. He nodded to himself, still grinning as he walked down the hallway.


	24. Chapter 24

Title: Look What Love Has Done - Volume 3 - Chapter 24

Pairing: Sam/Dean, OMC/OMC

Disclaimer: Not mine

Rating: NC-17 this chapter

Summary: Dylan and Danny aren't doing much of anything, so Sam decides to step up and help them get a first date.

Author's Note: Forget volume one, forget volume two; this is volume three 

 

fourteen years, six months and twenty-nine days old

 

Dylan shifted against the couch, trying to lean into Danny’s arm, looking up at him.

 

“You okay?” Danny asked quietly, glancing down at him.

 

Dylan nodded and swallowed, leaning forward to glance at his parents, who were watching the movie closely, each of them periodically glancing over at them. “They’re watching us,” he whispered, looking back towards the television.

 

Danny smiled and glanced over at them, giving Dean and Sam a quick nod before looking back down at Dylan. “Yeah, Dyl, it’s not that bad.”

 

Dylan sighed and nodded, stretching his legs out. “Whatever you say,” he murmured, clearing his throat softly.

 

“You guys want some chips?” Todd asked suddenly, reaching the bag out to them.

 

Dylan closed his eyes and dropped his head forward, shaking his head lightly. “No, Todd; thank you though.”

 

“I’ll have some,” Danny said, reaching out to grab the bag. He smiled and pulled the bag open a little more, sticking his hand in. “Want some?” he asked Dylan, pulling out a handful.

 

Dylan shook his head again, shifting against Danny. “Do you really wanna watch this movie?” he asked, tilting his head back to look up him.

 

Danny kept his eyes on the television for another moment before nodding slowly, glancing down at Dylan. “Well yeah, I do. I’ve wanted to see it for awhile. Why? You not into it?” he asked, shoving a couple chips into his mouth. 

 

Dylan sighed, reaching up to scratch at his nose. “Not so much,” he admitted, looking up at Danny again. “When are our parents going to let us get together without them?” he asked loudly, glaring at his parents. 

 

Danny smiled and looked over at Todd, who was back to watching the movie. “It’s only been what, a week? Less. I just like spending time with you.” He smiled and leaned down as Dylan tilted his head up again, giving Danny a kiss.

 

Dean cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow when Danny and Dylan looked over at them. “Movie,” he said, nodding towards the television.

 

Dylan rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, staring back at the television. “My point exactly,” he muttered, pushing himself up off Danny.

 

“Dean,” Sam said softly, looking over at him, “what are you doing?”

 

Dean shrugged, grinning at Sam. “I don’t know, just having some fun. What? They don’t need to be making out in front of me, I am trying to enjoy the movie.”

 

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes, shifting closer to Dean, resting his head on Dean’s shoulder. “You’re an ass,” he muttered, looking up at him. “When are you going to stop just having fun?”

 

Dean smiled and kissed Sam’s cheek, glancing back over at Dylan and Danny. “I don’t know. Eventually, I promise. Look, Todd’s bothering them too, it’s not just me.”

 

Sam lifted his head up and looked over at Dylan. “Hey, Dyl?”

 

Dylan groaned softly and looked over at Sam slowly. “What?” he asked.

 

“You and Danny wanna ditch us and go play football or something?” Sam offered. “You don’t have to watch the rest of the movie.”

 

“No thanks,” Dylan said, looking back at the television. “Danny wants to finish watching it.” He sighed and finally just pushed himself off the couch. “I’ve gotta have a shower anyway, I won’t have time before practice tomorrow.” He looked down at Danny before walking out of the living room.

 

“Uh, ” Danny sat up, watching Dylan walk into the bathroom, “did I do something wrong? Or--”

 

Sam glared at Dean, elbowing him. “Great, Dean. How nice of you.” He pushed himself up and lightly shoved Dean before following after Dylan, knocking on the bathroom door. “Dylan?”

 

“What?” Dylan snapped, dropping his t-shirt onto the floor.

 

Sam smiled and grabbed onto the doorknob. “Wanna let me in?”

 

Dylan sighed and reached out, unlocking the door. “What do you want?” he asked flatly, looking up at Sam.

 

“Just wanna know how you’re doing,” Sam said softly, closing the door behind him. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you run out on Danny before.”

 

“Just need a shower, Mom,” Dylan said, sitting down on the edge of the bathtub, “that’s all.”

 

“How are you and Danny doing?” Sam asked, putting the lid on the toilet down before taking a seat. 

 

“Wouldn’t know,” Dylan murmured, reaching out to play with the shower curtain, “haven’t been alone with him since Sunday. Nothing’s changed. Except for the kissing. And there’s not even a lot of that.” He sighed, looking over at Sam. “You guys aren’t helping.”

 

“Dean’s idea,” Sam said. “Dyl, we just wanna make sure that--”

 

“That I don’t have sex?” Dylan asked. “Yeah Mom, I got that. No sex. Whatever.”

 

“That’s actually not what I was going to say,” Sam said, smiling, “but since you brought it up--”

 

“Mom!” Dylan exclaimed. “I just-- I’m fourteen, I can make my own decisions.”

 

Sam smiled again and tried not to laugh. “You’re fourteen Dylan; a year ago, you were thirteen. A thirteen-year-old who had sex to prove that he wasn’t gay. You’re too young to making your own decisions and you’re dating a sixteen-year-old. A sixteen-year-old boy. I knew one of those once.”

 

Dylan sighed and shook his head. “We don’t get to spend any time alone together at school. Todd’s always around at his house and you guys are always here. I just want to-- to be with him. I want to go on a date with him. Why won’t he just ask me out?”

 

“I thought he did that already,” Sam said, smiling faintly. “Okay, so today is what? Wednesday? School night tomorrow, you have a game Friday night…go out there and tell Danny that Saturday you two are going out. On an actual date with no parents.”

 

Dylan whined softly and his head lolled around. “Can you do it for me?” he asked. 

 

Sam laughed loudly and stood up, walking over to kiss the top of Dylan’s head. “I think you gotta do it, Dyl,” he smiled. “Are you still gonna have your shower?”

 

Dylan shook his head and stood up, walking over to the door. “No, I guess I should-- I’ll do it now before I change my mind.” He opened the door and stepped out of the bathroom.

 

“Uh, Dylan,” Sam said, hand on the door, glancing down at Dylan’s t-shirt, “you forgetting something?”

 

Dylan took a deep breath and straightened up, shaking his head. “Nope.” He gave Sam a quick smile before walking back into the living room, clearing his throat as he made it to the couch.

 

Danny looked up, eyes going wide when he realized that Dylan had taken off his shirt off in the bathroom. “Uh, uh Dyl-- what’s--”

 

“Saturday night,” Dylan interrupted. “We’re going on a date. A real one.” He looked over at Dean. “Without our parents. Okay?”

 

Danny just stared at Dylan’s chest, before nodding jerkily. “Uh, ye-- yeah. Of course.” He swallowed hard, finally looking up at Dylan’s eyes. “Sounds good.”

 

“Good,” Dylan smiled, nodding once. “Now, I’ve gotta go have my shower.” He leaned down and gave Danny a kiss before standing back up, walking back to the bathroom. 

 

“Uh, Sam?” Dean asked, looking up when Sam walked into the living room. “What the heck was that about?”

 

Sam shrugged and smiled, sitting down on the couch between Todd and Danny. “Nothing. He just wanted a real date for once.” He looked over at Danny, reaching over to pat his leg. “Where ya gonna take him?”

 

Danny swallowed hard and thought for a moment. “Uh, mo--”

 

“You guys go to the movies all the time,” Sam interrupted. “This is your first date. It has to be special. Right?”

 

Danny nodded. “Yeah, sure. So where should we go?”

 

Sam looked up when he heard the shower turn on and thought for a moment. “I’m not sure. Let me think about it for a bit, and I’ll get back to you.”

 

Danny nodded and brought his feet up onto the couch, resting his head on his knees. “Should it be formal? Am I going to have to wear a suit?”

 

“How many suits does Dylan own?” Dean asked, smiling. “None?”

 

Sam grinned and reached out, grabbing the remote off of the coffee table. “Just let me think about it, what Dylan would wanna do.” He sighed and settled into the couch, turning up the volume.

 

“Dad?” Danny asked softly, leaning forward to look past Sam to look at Todd. “You’ll help too, right?”

 

Todd grabbed a couple of chips and nodded, giving Danny a quick smile. “Sure thing, Dan. No worries.”

 

* * * *

 

Dylan swallowed hard and tapped his pencil against the desk, trying to keep focused on the teacher’s voice. He sighed and began doodling on his paper, nodding his head slowly.

 

“Dylan?” the teacher asked.

 

“The Soviet Union,” Dylan replied automatically, not even looking up. He sighed and settled into his chair, the teacher still going on about the Cold War. He cleared his throat softly and finally looked up, trying to discreetly glance back at Danny. He smiled gently and looked back towards the front, reaching up to rub at his forehead. He finally began paying attention to the teacher, slowly raising his hand. “That’d be…Dobrynin, right?”

 

The teacher nodded and turned to the board, writing the name up on the board. “Okay, so Krushchev communicated through Dobrynin. Who knows who Kennedy communicated through?”

 

Danny raised his hand, pushing a curl behind his ear before waving slightly at the teacher. “Kennedy. I mean, Robert Kennedy.” The teacher nodded again and wrote RFK under Dobrynin. 

 

Dylan smiled and glanced back again, eyes dropping when he realized that Danny was watching him back. He turned back around and shifted in his seat, picking up his pencil, just to begin tapping it against the desk again.

 

The teacher stopped writing on the board and turned around, sitting down on his desk, waiting for the bell to ring. He smiled when it finally did and hopped off his desk, walking over to the board to begin erasing the work.

 

Dylan closed his binder and began pulling on the zipper, glancing back as he reached down for his backpack, frowning when he realized that Danny had already gotten up. He picked up his backpack, ready to stand before he felt somebody’s hand on his shoulder and he jumped.

 

Danny laughed beside him and reached down, helping Dylan out of his seat. “You okay?” he asked, stepping back to watch Dylan pull his backpack on. 

 

Dylan nodded, embarrassed and began walking with Danny out of the classroom, stopping outside the door. “What do you have?”

 

“Math,” Danny replied. “You?”

 

“Uh, English,” Dylan answered, looking up at Danny. “So I gotta go--” he nodded to the left, “this way. I’ll see you later, okay?”

 

Danny nodded and leaned down, kissing Dylan’s cheek quickly, straightening up when he heard laughing from across the hall, dropping his eyes when he saw two people watching them. “Uh yeah, I’ll see you at lunch,” he said softly before starting off to the right, waving his hand behind him.

 

Dylan sighed and leaned against the wall for a moment, watching Danny disappear into the crowd before he finally pushed himself up, walking in the direction of his next class. 

 

* * * *

 

Danny let out a deep breath as they stepped out of the school, reaching over to grasp onto Dylan’s hand. “Where do you wanna go for lunch?” he asked, digging into pocket for his keys. 

 

“Don’t care,” Dylan replied, shifting his backpack, “just…don’t wanna be here.”

 

Danny let go of Dylan’s hand, walking over to the driver’s side of the car, quickly unlocking his door, climbing in. He unlocked Dylan’s door and watched Dylan toss his backpack into the back. “How was English?” he asked, turning the key in the ignition.

 

Dylan shrugged, leaning against the door after getting his seatbelt on. “Okay,” he said softly.

 

“You okay?” Danny asked, frowning, pulling out of the parking lot. “Sick?”

 

Dylan closed his eyes and shook his head. “Just having a hard time focusing today, is all. Head hurts.”

 

Danny reached over, squeezing Dylan’s leg comfortingly, giving him a small smile. “Only a couple of hours left in the day. You can make it to the weekend.”

 

“I have a game tonight,” Dylan said, shifting in his seat. “I really don’t wanna go.”

 

“So skip it,” Danny suggested, glancing in his rearview mirror. “We can have our date tonight instead.”

 

Dylan shook his head. “That’s fine. It’s-- no, I’m fine. Tomorrow is good.” He looked over at Danny, trying to give him a smile. “It’ll be fun, right?”

 

“Yeah, I hope so,” Danny murmured, pulling to a quick stop. “We’re not going to the movies. Your-- your mom’s making sure of that.”

 

Dylan laughed. He undid his seatbelt and leaned across the seat, giving Danny a kiss. “We don’t have to anything crazy or anything. If you want to go the movies, I’m okay with going to the movies. That’s fine. Don’t listen to my mom.”

 

“No no, I know what we’re doing,” Danny assured him, glancing over to make sure Dylan was buckling back up. “It should be fun.”

 

“So you’re not going to tell me?” Dylan asked. “How long do you think you can keep it secret, Danny?” His tongue came out to wet his lips and he reached over, fingers dancing up Danny’s leg. “I’m pretty sure that I can get you to tell me,” he said softly, hand moving higher. 

 

Danny cleared his throat and nodded, trying to jerk his leg away from Dylan’s hand. “Uh, McDonald’s?” he asked, slowly down to pull into the parking lot.

 

Dylan looked ahead, nodding slowly. He withdrew his hand, turning his head to look out the window. “Yeah, sure,” he said, “sounds good.”

 

“Good,” Danny smiled, turning the car into the parking lot. He glanced over at Dylan as he undid his seatbelt, frowning slightly. “Alright, you ready?” he asked, pushing open the door.

 

“Yeah,” Dylan said softly, following Danny out of the car.

 

* * * *

 

Sam looked up when the bell rang and he heard the store entrance open, grinning when Dean walked inside. “Hi,” he said, sitting up in his chair.

 

Dean walked over to the counter and leaned across, cupping the back of Sam’s neck to pull him in for a kiss. “Hi,” he echoed, setting a bag of food on the counter, winking at Sam. “How much do you love me now?”

 

“The same as when I saw you this morning,” Sam smiled, sticking the tip of his tongue out at Dean, “but I appreciate it anyway.” He reached out for the bag, grabbing his sub. “How long do you have?”

 

“I’m done when you are,” Dean smiled, walking behind the counter to be beside Sam.

 

Sam raised an eyebrow, smirking at Dean before taking a bite of his sub. “Like I’ve never heard that before.” He moved over on his seat, trying to make room for Dean to sit down. “How’s work going?” he asked, meeting Dean’s eyes as he took another bite.

 

“Good,” Dean nodded, opening his mouth to take a bite of Sam’s sub, “good. And you?”

 

“Fine,” Sam nodded, leaning against Dean. He sighed and smiled, looking down when Dean reached out, wiping mayonnaise off of his lips with his thumb. His tongue came out and he smiled, leaning forward, giving Dean a kiss. “I’ve missed you,” he said softly, reaching out to set his food on the counter.

 

“I’m always around,” Dean replied, swallowing hard. He began leaning in for another kiss when the door upstairs opened and Peter stepped out onto the balcony, looking down at them.

 

“Uh, hi, Peter,” Sam said quietly, reaching out for his food. He sighed and quickly stood up, leaning against the counter.

 

“And what exactly are you two up to?” Peter asked, smiling down at them.

 

Dean reached back and scratched at his neck, looking over at Sam. “Maybe I should get going,” he said quietly, standing up. 

 

Sam looked back up at Peter before nodding, leaning into give Dean a quick kiss. “Um, I’ll see you later, okay? Tonight?” he asked softly, reaching out to loosely wrap his fingers around Dean’s wrist. 

 

Dean nodded and reached out, taking another bite of Sam’s sub, giving Peter a quick wave. “Love you.”

 

Sam nodded and took his seat back, staring at the counter in front of him. He sighed and shifted, leaning against the counter as he slowly chewed.

 

* * * *

 

Danny pulled into Dylan’s driveway, smiling over at him. “Home sweet home.”

 

Dylan unbuckled his seatbelt and turned, pushing himself up on his knees on the seat to reach into the back, grabbing his backpack. 

 

Danny swallowed hard, eyes automatically drifting to Dylan’s ass and where the waistband of his boxers was above the waistband of his jeans. Danny swallowed hard and squeezed his eyes shut, turning back towards the front.

 

Dylan dropped back down on his seat, giving Danny a quick smile. “Are you coming to the game tonight?” he asked.

 

Danny opened his eyes slowly and turned back towards Dylan, nodding jerkily. “Uh, uh yeah. Probably me and Dad. I probably won’t be able to go to next week’s.”

 

“Soccer, right,” Dylan nodded. “Well, I’ll see you there tonight then, I guess.” He smiled at him and climbed out of the car, pushing the door closed.

 

“Jesus,” Danny breathed, watching Dylan walked up to the door before finally jerking back to attention and slowly pulling out of the driveway. He took a deep breath and drove into his own driveway, turning the keys in the ignition. He undid his seatbelt and closed his eyes, reaching down to adjust himself in his jeans. He took another deep breath and climbed out of the car. 

 

* * * *

 

“You almost ready?” Sam asked, looking up when Dylan walked out of his bedroom. 

 

Dylan nodded and made his way through the living room and into the kitchen. “Five minutes.”

 

“Okay,” Sam said, setting down his book and standing up, walking over to the master bedroom. “Just uh, I’ll go get ready.”

 

Dylan leaned back and raised an eyebrow, shaking his head. “You and Dad, huh?”

 

Sam swallowed and walked into the bedroom, quickly pushing the door closed behind him. “We’ve got five minutes,” he said, before he realized what exactly Dean was doing. 

 

Dean rolled his eyes even as he moaned loudly, fingers working in and out of himself. “G-- Christ,” he stuttered, squeezing his eyes shut.

 

Sam just stared at Dean, mouth hanging open before he finally pulled off his t-shirt and began fumbling with his jeans, all thumbs as he tried to get them undone and down. 

 

“I thought you missed me,” Dean said, voice rough and hoarse, spreading his legs just a little bit more, eyes dark and barely open.

 

“Shut up,” Sam muttered, finally shoving down the denim and the boxers underneath. He kicked them off and stumbled over to the bed, climbing onto the mattress, moving between Dean’s legs. He reached over and grabbed the lube at the same time that he lightly grasped onto Dean’s wrist, pulling his fingers out of him as he awkwardly and quickly lubed himself up with the other hand. 

 

Dean spread his legs as far as he could, waiting for Sam to start to push in before he brought his knees up, legs squeezing Sam’s hips. He gasped softly, mouth hanging open as he head went back, fingers digging into Sam’s skin. 

 

Sam pushed into Dean, pausing for only a moment before pulling his hips back and snapping back in, eyes squeezing shut. He thrust in again, working harder, and his eyes opened when he heard a distinctive thumping with every thrust. “Did you--” he panted, looking down at Dean, “move the bed--” his head went back, crying out when Dean shifted under him, “closer to the wall?” he finally finished, pupils blown.

 

Dean’s laugh turned into a loud groan and he moved his hands to the back of Sam’s head, fingers working into Sam’s hair to pull him down into a kiss. “Just thought I’d let everyone in on it.” He kissed Sam again, breaking back when Sam grinded in a little harder.

 

Dylan lifted his head and groaned loudly, shaking his head. “Come on, people!” he yelled, raising his hands to his ears. He dropped his water bottle onto the table and quickly ran down to his bedroom, closing the door behind him. He walked over to his stereo, turning up the volume until he knew for sure he wouldn’t be able to hear his parents and dropped down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He reached down when he felt his cell phone vibrating, pulling it out of his pocket. “Yeah?” he asked loudly, before rolling his eyes and reaching back, turning the stereo down. “Hello?”

 

“Hey, Dylan,” Danny said, sounding unsure of himself.

 

Dylan sat up quickly, switching his phone to the other ear. “Danny! Uh, hey. What’s going on?”

 

“Nothing,” Danny said quietly. “Um, I just wanted to call you let you know that-- that I don’t think I’m going to see you at the game tonight.”

 

“Oh,” Dylan said flatly. “Um…okay. That’s fine.” He brought his legs up onto his bed, picking at the hem of his jeans. “How come?” he asked, before sighing. 

 

“My grandparents have decided that we don’t see them enough and I have to go visit them,” Danny explained. “For the night. I’ll be back tomorrow though, for-- for our date.” He smiled into the phone. 

 

“Yeah,” Dylan said, looking up, eyes moving around his room. “Okay. So…just call me tomorrow then.”

 

“Of course,” Danny assured him. “I’ll probably call you tonight, actually. My grandparents are sort of boring. And very stereotypical Jewish, believe it or not. Oy vay this, and meshugena that.”

 

Dylan smiled, reaching up to rub at his eyes. “I’ll have to meet them sometime.”

 

“Yeah,” Danny agreed. “They’ll definitely wanna meet my gelibter.”

 

Dylan straightened up. “You speak Yiddish?” he asked in interest. 

 

Danny shrugged. “Maybe a little,” he admitted. “Just enough to mock them, I guess.”

 

“What’s…gelibter mean?” Dylan asked, hoping it was something along the vein of what he thought he was.

 

Danny cleared his throat. “Uh, it means…sweetheart. Male sweetheart. Yeah, I don’t know. That’s what my grandfather kept saying when he found out I was gay. It was weird. Anyway, I just didn’t really want you to like, look into the stands for me.”

 

Dylan nodded. “Thanks for telling me,” he said softly, closing his eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, I guess.”

 

“You okay, Dylan?” Danny asked. 

 

Dylan nodded again. “Yeah, I-- I’m fine. I just…head still hurts a little, I guess. I’m fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He took his phone away from his ear and quickly turned it off, dropping it onto his bed. He swallowed and pushed himself up, walking out of his bedroom and down the hall, taking a deep breath before knocking on Sam and Dean’s bedroom door.

 

“Just a sec!” Sam called, squeezing his eyes shut, dropping his head to Dean’s neck, nipping at his skin.

 

Dylan sighed and turned around, sitting down against the wall beside the door. He brought his knees up to his chest, slowly rocking back and forth. 

 

Sam jerked his hand, thumbing under the crown of Dean’s dick, moving his mouth over Dean’s skin, lapping at the sweat. “Gorgeous,” he murmured, lifting his head to meet Dean’s eyes.

 

“Hell yeah,” Dean smirked. His legs squeezed even tighter around Sam and his head went back as he came, teeth digging into his lip to try and keep quiet. “God,” he breathed, voice ragged.

 

“God,” Sam muttered, hips jerking into him, finally coming, spilling into Dean. His arms shook and dropped down onto Dean’s chest, hair plastered to his forehead, breathing heavily. 

 

Dylan lifted his head when the thumping stopped and he pushed himself back up and went to the door, pushing it open.

 

Sam sighed and rolled off of Dean, making sure that they were both still covered by the bed sheet. “You okay, Dyl?” he asked, voice still rough.

 

Dylan nodded, trying to avoid actually looking at his parents. “I’m uh, I’m not going to the game. You can call the coach.” He pulled the door closed and walked back down to his bedroom, turning his music back up.

 

Sam pushed himself up, looking down at Dean in confusion. “Uh, what do you think that was about?” he asked.

 

Dean just shook his head, reaching over to grab his phone. “Who the hell knows.”

 

* * * *

 

Dylan scratched at his hip, fixing his t-shirt as he walked out of his bedroom, yawning and stretching his arms above his head. “Wanna make me breakfast, Mommy?” he asked, dropping down onto the couch, looking up at Sam.

 

“Did you come out of your room at all last night?” Sam asked, reaching out to play with the ends of Dylan’s hair. 

 

Dylan shook his head. “Well, I peed at around two-thirty,” he smiled.

 

Sam nodded. “Did you get sick?” he asked, reaching up to take off his glasses, setting down on the coffee table.

 

Dylan shook his head again and sat up, looking at Sam. “Danny couldn’t go,” he said finally, dropping his eyes.

 

“Dylan, you made a commitment to the team,” Sam pointed out, “you can’t just ditch them because Danny can’t go.”

 

“I didn’t-- I just wasn’t--” Dylan sighed, looking back up at Sam. “He called me his sweetheart,” he said, smiling weakly.

 

“Yeah?” Sam asked, shifting on the couch. “Wow.”

 

“Well actually, he called his gelibter,” Dylan continued, “which he said was Yiddish for sweetheart. His grandparents are like that.”

 

“Jewish?” Sam smiled. “Yeah, so’s he, Dylan. So that was it? Danny wasn’t going to be there so you decided not go?”

 

“My head was hurting all day yesterday,” Dylan admitted, “and I just-- I didn’t really wanna go to begin with, but then Danny said he’d be there and that made me happy, but then he said that he wouldn’t be there and--” he stopped talking, rubbing his stomach as it growled loudly. “I really like him,” he said finally.

 

“I know,” Sam said, wrapping an arm around Dylan, pulling him in to kiss his forehead, “and he really likes you too.”

 

Dylan looked down at his lap, nodding slowly. “I don’t think he really does.”

 

“Why would you say that?” Sam asked. “Dylan, he’s liked you since forever, why--”

 

“I touched his leg yesterday,” Dylan interrupted. “I…I guess I sort of flirted with him, or hit on him and,” Dylan shook his head, “he didn’t do anything. Wouldn’t he have done something, if he really liked me?”

 

“Maybe he just doesn’t want your relationship to go so fast right now,” Sam suggested. “Dylan, you’ve dated one person before, and--”

 

“I know,” Dylan said quietly, “but I just thought that that’s what he wants from me. That he expects it, because of Stacy. What if he wants to have sex tonight, after our date? What do I do?”

 

“Well, I’d really like you to wait,” Sam said, “I think that’s sort of obvious. But if he wants to and you want to…I don’t think there’s much that I can do to stop it. Have you thought about whether you want to have sex with him or not?”

 

Dylan shrugged. “No, not really. I just thought about whether he wanted to do it or not. And I just assumed that he did, so I assumed that we would.”

 

Dean opened the door and stepped inside, waving at Sam and Dylan. “Go get ‘em, Chuck,” he said, unhooking the leash from King Chuck’s collar. “You feeling okay, Dylan?” he asked, toeing off his sneakers.

 

Dylan looked over at Dean and nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine, Dad.”

 

“What do you want for breakfast, Dean?” Sam asked, tilting his head back to look at him.

 

Dean shrugged and opened the door to the bathroom. “Whatever you’re making for Dylan,” he said, before stepping inside.

 

“What do you want for breakfast?” Sam asked, looking back over at Dylan. “Eggs?”

 

Dylan nodded. “Maybe an omelette. Or sunny side up.”

 

Sam smiled and nodded, pushing himself up off the couch. “Come on, Dylan, as punishment for skipping the game, you can help me make your breakfast.”

 

Dylan smiled and nodded, following Sam into the kitchen.

 

* * * *

 

“Just be good,” Sam said softly, pulling back from the hug, looking Dylan in the eyes. “Think about what you want, Dylan. Okay?”

 

Dylan nodded and stepped back, waving over at Dean. “Love ya, Dad.”

 

Dean nodded, watching Danny outside by his car through the kitchen window. “Love ya too, kiddo. If something happens, just call us.” He walked over to Dylan and kissed the top of his head, smiling into his hair. “And if you go somewhere cool, bring me back something.”

 

Dylan grinned and nodded and turned around, stepping outside. He smiled over at Danny, reaching up to rub just slightly at his temples. “How are you?” he asked, leaning up to give Danny a quick kiss.

 

Danny smiled, watching Dylan walk around to the other side of the car. “I’m good. How are you? How was the game last night?”

 

“Uh,” Dylan climbed into the car, trying to think as quickly as he could, “I didn’t exactly go. My headache just caught up with me.”

 

Danny nodded, buckling his seatbelt. “You okay now? We can just hang out at my house if you’re not.”

 

Dylan shook his head. “I’m fine. I’m all asprined up, I’m fine.” He gave Danny a quick smile. “So are you ever going to tell me where we’re going, or no?”

 

“Riverside,” Danny replied, pulling out of the driveway.

 

Dylan frowned, trying to think. “What-- what’s in Riverside?” he asked.

 

“Castle Park,” Danny said, looking over at Dylan, a grin on his face.

 

* * * *

 

Dylan’s eyes were wide as he looked around the amusement park, lights of the rides flashing in his eyes as he grinned. “Wow,” he said softly, looking back over at Danny. “You brought me to an amusement park.”

 

Danny nodded, smiling proudly despite himself. “Your mom said it should be somewhere cool and somewhere not the movies. Is it okay?”

 

Dylan nodded eagerly, reaching over to grasp onto Danny’s hand. “Yeah, it’s perfect,” he said softly, leaning up to give Danny a quick kiss. “So what do we do? Ride the rides? What do they have here?”

 

Danny shrugged as they began to walk together. “I don’t know. Roller coasters, mini golf, tilt-a-whirl. And an actual restaurant. What do you wanna do?”

 

Dylan looked around some more, still smiling. “I’m gonna kick your ass in mini golf,” he said finally, looking over at Danny.

 

Danny nodded and grinned. “Sounds good to me. That would be right there,” he said, pointing off in front of them. He squeezed Dylan’s hand and began leading him over to the course. 

 

* * * *

 

“You ever been on anything like this before?” Danny asked, looking up at the ride.

 

Dylan shook his head. “Uh, no. Isn’t it sort of scary?” he asked, looking over at Danny.

 

“Uh, yeah,” Danny smiled, “that’s sort of the point. It’s just fun. We don’t have to ride it if you don’t want to.”

 

Dylan swallowed hard. “I’m just…not sure about it, is all. We were never really big on things like this in my family.”

 

“We can just go over to the tilt-a-whirl,” Danny suggested. “Or the log ride.”

 

“Do you wanna ride this?” Dylan asked, looking up at Danny.

 

Danny shrugged. “Sort of. Me and my dad do it a lot, I’m used to it. It’s really not so bad, Dylan, I think that you can handle it.”

 

“O-- okay,” Dylan said, nodding his head jerkily. “Sure. That’s fine.” He sighed and rubbed at his eyes, giving Danny a smile. “It’s fine.”

 

“Okay then,” Danny said, waving his bracelet at the ride attendant, Dylan doing the same as they walked into the ride area. “You just sit up on this,” he began, climbing into his seat, “and do these buckles. And pull this down.”

 

Dylan did what Danny showed him and closed his eyes, taking a deep, shaky breath. “How long does it last?” he asked, voice tiny.

 

“Scariest part’s over in less than five seconds,” Danny said. “After this, we can do whatever you want. Promise.”

 

Dylan nodded and kept his eyes closed, hearing and feeling the ride being to lock people in place. The pain behind his eyes began to grow and he let out a soft whimper, a white-knuckled grip on one of the buckles. “When does it start?” he asked, too scared to open his eyes. 

 

“Do you wanna get off?” Danny asked, shifting in his seat.

 

Dylan shook his head. “Just want it over with.” He opened his eyes just as the ride began and they were shot up into the air, a scream ripped from both of their throats. Tears filled Dylan’s eyes as he floated in his seat for just a moment, before they shot back down. The pain was flaring between his eyes, as strong as a migraine and he held his breath, waiting for the ride to be over.

 

As soon as the ride unlocked them, Dylan hopped off of his seat, wrapping his arms around himself, keeping his eyes closed.

 

“Dylan?” Danny asked, hurrying after him. “Are you okay?”

 

“I need to get,” Dylan took a deep breath, eyes still closed, “to the bathroom, please.”

 

“Sure,” Danny said, wrapping his arm around Dylan, leading him off in the direction of the bathroom. “Are you gonna be sick?” He studied Dylan for a moment. “Dylan, open your eyes, look at me for a sec.”

 

Dylan stopped walking and slowly opened his eyes, a garbage can falling over as soon as he could see. Some of the pain eased behind his eyes and he let out a sigh of relief, looking back to the ride, the small light bulbs exploding as all of the pain left his head. He cried out loudly and dropped to the ground, tears running down his cheeks. 

 

“Dylan,” Danny said in disbelief, looking around, “what the hell’s going on?” He dropped to his knees in front of Dylan, cupping his cheeks. “Are you okay?”

 

Dylan shook his head and wiped at his nose and eyes with his sleeve, shoulders shaking. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, finally looking up at Danny. “I didn’t know it was going to happen. I’m sorry. It hasn’t happened like that in so long, I thought I could control it.”

 

“You did that?” Danny asked, looking back to the ride. “You broke those lights?”

 

Dylan nodded, bringing his knees up to his chest. “I’m sorry. Take me home please, I’m sorry.”

 

Danny nodded jerkily, unsure of what exactly was going on as he helped Dylan back up to his feet, holding him close. “It’s okay, Dylan,” he said softly, kissing the top of Dylan’s head. “It’s okay.”

 

Dylan sniffled loudly and wiped at his eyes. “I-- I didn’t--”

 

“How do you do it?” Danny asked suddenly, looking at Dylan.

 

Dylan just shook his head, moving away from Danny, walking ahead. “I can’t tell you, I’m sorry.”

 

Danny dropped his eyes and stopped for a moment, before finally moving to catch up with Dylan, following him out the exit and into the parking lot. “Dylan, what’s going on?” he asked, grasping onto Dylan’s arm. “Tell me what’s going on. Please. I wanna know.”

 

Dylan sniffled and looked over at Danny, before nodding jerkily. “O-- okay,” he said quietly, sniffling again.

 

Danny nodded and moved his arm to around Dylan’s shoulder, walking with him slowly to the car. “Are you hurt?” he asked, opening the door for Dylan.

 

Dylan shook his head and climbed into the car, bringing his knees up to his chest. “It’s never happened like that before,” he said, looking up when Danny climbed in alongside him. 

 

Danny settled into his seat, closing his eyes for a moment. “Dylan, what the hell was that?”

 

Dylan shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Dylan, did you do that?” Danny asked. “You knocked that garbage can over. You broke those lights.” He shook his head in disbelief, smacking the steering wheel. “What the hell are you?”

 

Dylan swallowed hard and squeezed his eyes shut, sobbing into his knees.

 

Danny looked away from Dylan, watching out the window. “Dyl, Dylan, that’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean to say it like that. Of course you’re-- you’re human, but--”

 

“I don’t--” Dylan interrupted, “I’m not sure that I am.” He lifted his head, wiping at his eyes. “Just take me home Danny, please.”

 

“I wanna know the truth,” Danny said. “Dylan, I-- thirteen years of friendship, I think I deserve to know the truth.” He turned in his seat, reaching out to Dylan. “I wanna know,” he said softly. “Please, I just wanna know the truth. How did you do that?”

 

Dylan shrugged. “It’s just who I am. It’s what I do. It started when I was three. I can move things with my mind. My mom is psychic.”

 

“Jesus Christ,” Danny muttered, digging his keys out. “What the hell is going on with your family?”

 

Dylan just closed his eyes, resting his head against his knees. “I just wanna go home,” he said softly, yawning. “Please just take me home. You can break up with me later.”

 

Danny’s eyes opened wide and he stuck his keys in the ignition, looking over at Dylan. “I’m not going to break up with you.”

 

“Whatever,” Dylan muttered, turning his head away from Danny. “I’m a freak. You’re right, my whole family is.”

 

“I just wish you would explain it to me,” Danny said. “Give me a chance to make up my own mind about it.”

 

Dylan looked over at Danny, cheeks stained with tears, eyes bloodshot. He looked backwards before pushing himself up, climbing into the backseat, settling against the door. 

 

Danny sighed and shifted, climbing into the back, dropping down beside Dylan. “You gonna tell me the truth?”

 

Dylan nodded. “How much do you wanna know?”

 

“Whatever you can tell me,” Danny said quietly, wrapping his arm around Dylan’s shoulder, moving as close to him as he could, tilting his head down to kiss the top of Dylan’s head. “I wanna hear it all, Dylan. This is sort of big, you know. I’m your best friend, I thought I knew everything.”

 

Dylan closed his eyes and leaned into Danny, resting his arm over Danny’s chest, taking a deep breath. He thought for a moment, just enjoying being next to Danny, because he was almost sure that after Danny heard the truth, he’d never want to be next to him again. “My parents…are Sam and Dean Winchester,” Dylan began finally. “They’re brothers.”

 

Danny drew a sharp breath and closed his eyes, trying not to freak out and alienate Dylan anymore. “Okay. So John…”

 

“Grampie was both of their fathers,” Dylan said. “I didn’t find out until after Grampie died. I know, I know how wrong it is, I do. And I don’t like it, but that’s who they are. And they’re my parents.” His eyes went wide for a moment and he lifted his head off Danny’s chest, looking up at him. “Don’t tell anybody, please. They’d-- they’d go to prison and then they’d take me away. I don’t have any other family Danny, and--”

 

Danny wrapped his arms around Dylan, pulling him in for a hug. “I would never take them away from you, Dylan,” he whispered, “I would never do that to you. I promise.” He kissed Dylan’s temple, closing his eyes. “You don’t have to tell me anything else if you don’t want to. I just…it’s not my place.”

 

“I want you to know,” Dylan said quietly, moving one of his legs between Danny’s, climbing onto his lap, curling up against his chest. “Their mom died when Mom was six months old. A demon killed her. Grampie raised them to-- to hunt them. Demons and stuff. That’s why I learned Latin and how to shoot a gun.”

 

“Those--” Danny shook his head weakly, “those things are real? Demons? I…are you sure?”

 

Dylan nodded slowly. “Nine months before I was born, I guess, Mom and Dad were in Texas. And-- and this guy, this…fallen angel named Rosier touched Mom’s stomach and got--”

 

“Dylan,” Danny interrupted gently, “I think I know where that story’s going. I just…can’t believe it. I--” he shook his head in disbelief. “You’ve managed to hide it all for this long. I just…wow. All of the lies you’ve had to tell. How do you deal with it?”

 

Dylan shook his head, closing his eyes and yawning softly, shifting on Danny’s lap. “It’s easy, I guess,” he murmured. “I didn’t know I was really Mom’s until I was nine. I didn’t know they were brothers until I was twelve. It’s easy to lie when that’s what you know.”

 

Danny smiled weakly, rubbing Dylan’s back gently. “I’m sorry.”

 

Dylan shrugged, settling into Danny, slumping against him. “It’s okay,” he breathed, yawning softly.

 

Danny wrapped his arms around Dylan, kissing the top of his head. “I don’t think we’re going to have a great record if we fall asleep again, Dylan,” he smiled.

 

Dylan groaned softly and rolled off of Danny, curling up against the door and the seat. “Take me home,” he pleaded softly, eyes closing again.

 

Danny nodded slowly and shifted, climbing back into the front seat. He buckled his seatbelt and turned the keys in the ignition, slowly pulling out of the parking lot.

 

* * * *

 

Danny shifted and knocked on the door, pushing his curls away from his eyes. He looked up when the door opened and smiled weakly.

 

“Danny,” Dean said, glancing behind him, “where’s Dylan?”

 

“In the backseat,” Danny said. “Sleeping. I thought maybe you could help me get him out.”

 

Dean nodded and turned around, quickly slipping his feet into his sneakers, following Danny outside. “How come he’s so tired?” he asked, walking around to the other side of the car.

 

Danny cleared his throat and leaned against the car, watching Dean open the door. “He blew up light bulbs with his mind,” he said finally.

 

Dean’s head jerked up and he frowned over at Danny. “Um…”

 

“He told me the truth,” Danny said. “All of it.”

 

“What’s all of it?” Dean asked, wrapping his arms around Dylan’s waist, helping him out of the car.

 

Danny nodded slowly, eyes dropping. “All of it,” he said again. “About you and Sam and-- I’m not going to tell anybody, I swear. Probably not even my dad. Dylan was really scared that I would, but I wouldn’t. I won’t. You can tell him that when he wakes up.”

 

Dean smiled his thanks and nodded, pushing the door closed.

 

Dylan groaned and his head lolled around before his eyes opened, looking up at Dean. “Dad?” he asked softly.

 

Dean nodded again. “Come on, kiddo, let’s get ya in the house.”

 

Dylan nodded and took a couple of steps, stumbling before he stopped in front of Danny. “Thanks for the date,” he said softly, swallowing hard.

 

Danny smiled, leaning down to kiss Dylan’s cheek. “I’m not breaking up with you,” he whispered, pulling back to look Dylan in the eyes. 

 

Dylan finally smiled and started walking again, going up to the house, waving behind him at Danny.

 

Dean walked over to Danny, standing by him, arms crossed. “Even the pregnant part?” he asked, looking up at him.

 

Danny nodded. “Uh, yeah. And some fallen angel guy and--”

 

“I still consider him mine,” Dean interrupted. “He’s my son.”

 

Danny nodded again. “Of-- of course. I-- I still consider him yours too.”

 

Dean raised an eyebrow, uncrossing his arms to pat Danny on the shoulder. “Break his heart, I break your neck.” He smirked at him before following Dylan up to the house, pulling the door closed behind him.

 

Danny sighed, leaning back against his car. He shook his head, closing his eyes, trying to make sense of everything that had happened that night. He reached down, lightly pinching himself, making sure that he was actually awake.

 

Sam smiled out the kitchen window, glancing over at Dylan, who had pushed himself up on the counter, drinking a can of soda. “Uh, Dyl? He’s still out there.”

 

Dylan smiled and hopped off the counter, glancing back at Dean, who had picked up his drink. “I’ll just be a sec,” he said, walking over to the door. 

 

Dean grinned and looked over at Sam, who was back to watching out the window.

 

Dylan ran outside, skipping a step to hurry over to Danny, cupping his cheeks, pulling him in for a kiss.

 

Danny fell back against his car, his hands instantly going to Dylan’s hips, lips finally moving against Dylan’s once he got past the surprise, moaning softly. 

 

Dylan pushed himself up a little and slipped his tongue into Danny’s mouth, mouth working against Danny’s. He smiled as he pulled back, swallowing hard. “I gotta go,” he said breathlessly, stepping back. “Goodnight.”

 

Danny nodded slowly, staring at Dylan. “That was a nice one,” he said quietly.

 

Dylan smiled and ducked his head, almost blushing. “Thank you. For everything. You mean a lot to me, Danny.” He smiled again and turned around, walking back up to the house.

 

Danny’s jaw dropped a little and his tongue came out, getting all traces of Dylan off him. He smiled and sighed, leaning back against his car.

 

Sam looked over at Dylan as he walked into the house, reaching over to grab his drink from soda. “Did you see that?” he asked, moving his eyes to Dean.

 

Dean nodded slowly. “Uh, yeah. That was quite the kiss,” he said, looking back to watch Dylan sit down on the couch. 

 

Danny finally pushed himself off his car and walked back over to the driver’s side, pinching himself again as he climbed in.


	25. Chapter 25

Title: Look What Love Has Done - Volume 3 - Chapter 25

Pairing: Sam/Dean, OMC/OMC

Disclaimer: Not mine

Rating: R this chapter

Summary: Dean is getting sick, but won't tell Sam the truth; Dylan isn't sure that he's ready for the next step in his relationship with Danny

Author's Note: Forget volume one, forget volume two; this is volume three 

 

 

fifteen years, three months and twenty-two days old

 

Dean shifted uncomfortably, reaching out for his glass of water as he dropped his other hand off the table, rubbing his abdomen gently.

 

Sam looked over at Dean, frowning slightly as he reached out, grabbing a roll. He sat back, studying Dean carefully. “You okay?” he asked quietly.

 

Dean thought for a moment before nodding quickly. “Uh yeah, just…gas or something.” He looked up at Sam, smiling. “I’m fine.”

 

Sam smiled and set his roll down by his plate, picking up a rib.

 

“Little more than a month till you two are back in school,” Todd said, looking over at Dylan and Danny. “You getting excited?”

 

Danny smiled and ducked his head, looking at Dylan’s hand in his beneath the table. “Yeah, Dad,” he said sarcastically, “pumped.”

 

Dylan squeezed Danny’s hand and reached out, picking up his fork. “Thanks for having us over for dinner, Todd,” he said, picking up some of the rice on his plate.

 

“Yeah, Todd,” Dean said, “thanks. Food’s great.”

 

“Yeah well, I do what I can,” Todd smiled, “and I do it well.”

 

Sam laughed softly and took a drink of his water, smiling over at Dean. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked, shifting closer to Dean.

 

Dean nodded, taking a bite of his rice. “I’m sure.” He gave Sam a quick smile before leaning over, kissing his cheek. He cleared his throat and leaned forward a bit, looking past Sam to smile at Dylan and Danny. “How you two doing over there?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows.

 

Dylan sighed in exasperation and looked away, rubbing his face. 

 

“We’re uh, we’re just fine Mr Winchester,” Danny said, nodding over at Dean. “Good.”

 

“Good,” Dean said softly, leaning back in his seat. “They’re just fine,” he whispered, leaning up to Sam.

 

“I know Dean,” Sam said, “I can tell. And Danny, you can call us by our names.”

 

“He’s dating my son, he can call me Mr Winchester,” Dean said, leaning forward again.

 

“Yes, sir,” Danny murmured, glancing over at Dylan, who was red with embarrassment, shaking his head in disbelief. “It’s okay,” he said softly, leaning over to kiss Dylan’s cheek. “I can handle him.” He squeezed Dylan’s hand reassuringly.

 

“When can we go back to school shopping, Mom?” Dylan asked, leaning forward.

 

“We have awhile, Dylan,” Sam pointed out, “probably in a couple of weeks. You always get the same things anyway Dylan; do you really need anymore jeans and t-shirts?”

 

Danny laughed and took a drink of his water, smiling over at Dylan. “He has a point.”

 

“Whatever,” Dylan muttered, picking up a rib. “We can’t all be as fashionable as you, now can we Danny?”

 

Danny rolled his eyes and laughed again. “I’ll go shopping with you Dylan, I’ll take care of you.” He dropped his hand from Dylan’s and reached out with both, bringing the plate of ribs closer to him. “After this, you wanna do something?”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Dylan replied, rubbing at his eyes. “Sounds good.”

 

“You okay?” Danny asked, studying Dylan.

 

Dylan’s mouth opened wide and he yawned loudly as he nodded. “Just tired,” he replied, mid-yawn. He shook his head, rubbing at his eyes again. “I’m fine.”

 

Todd looked around the table as he bit into a roll, nodding slowly. “Yeah okay, way to make me feel like a fifth-wheel guys.”

 

Danny looked over at his father, smiling. “Sorry Dad. If-- you can go with me and Dylan, if you want.”

 

Todd raised an eyebrow, trying not to laugh. “Uh yeah, I was joking Danny. And I would never do that to you. I’m the hip dad, remember? The hip dad doesn’t go on dates with his kids.”

 

Danny began to laugh softly, squeezing his eyes shut. “No, definitely not,” he muttered, still laughing. He looked over at his father apologetically. 

 

“Thank god I’m not the hip dad,” Dean murmured, nudging Sam.

 

Sam smiled and looked over at Todd, who had began to dance in his seat. “Yeah, sometimes the hip dad is a bit more embarrassing.” He cleared his throat and looked around the table before pushing his chair back. “Need help with the dishes, Todd?” he offered.

 

“Yeah, sure,” Todd replied, standing up. “Danny, aren’t you going to help?” he smiled, reaching out to pick up Dylan and Danny’s plates.

 

“Uh no, Dad,” Danny smiled back, “that’s okay. I think we’re just going to head out. Dyl?”

 

“Sure,” Dylan agreed, standing up. 

 

“Where are you two going?” Dean asked, handing Sam his plate and glass. He pushed his chair back and stood up, stepping over to Dylan.

 

“Uh…” Dylan looked over at Danny, shrugging. “I’m not sure, really. Just out.”

 

‘Well, don’t be out too late,” Dean said, patting Dylan’s shoulder. He smiled and leaned into Dylan, mouth by his ear, “and be safe.” He pulled back and poked Danny in the shoulder. “You too, Danny.”

 

Danny nodded jerkily walked over to the door, slipping his feet into his boots. “Yes-- yes, sir. Of course.” He cleared his throat and nodded over at Dylan, reaching out to him. “Ready?”

 

Dylan nodded and walked over, reaching down to grab onto his sneakers. “We won’t be too late. Promise.” He smiled at his parents and gave Todd a quick wave before opening the door, stepping outside. Danny walked out after him, pulling the door closed.

 

“I don’t think that we need to give Dylan the safe sex talk anymore,” Sam said, walking with Dean into the kitchen. “He knows.”

 

Dean sighed and dropped his dishes into the sink, leaning against the counter. “I think he always need a tiny reminder. Heat of the moment, Sam.”

 

“There is no heat,” Todd said, pouring some dish soap into the sink as Sam turned on the tap.

 

“Huh?” Dean asked, looking over at Todd.

 

“Or uh,” Todd thought for few seconds, “there is no moment. I think there’s no moment. There’s probably a lot of heat, all of the--” he began waving his hands around, “hormones and such.”

 

Dean frowned and looked up at Sam, who was pushing up the sleeves on his sweater. “There’s no moment,” he echoed. “Hmm.” He looked back to Todd. “So…no moment at all or just--”

 

“No moment,” Todd nodded. “Danny’s a virgin.”

 

Dean’s jaw dropped and he looked up at Sam, mouthing the words back up to him.

 

“I heard,” Sam said, grabbing onto the sponge, picking up one of the plates. He sighed and began washing, glancing back at Dean. “Why are you so surprised?” he asked.

 

Dean shrugged, working his teeth against his lips. “I don’t know. I mean, first date ever, he got laid. And Danny’s older than him, so--”

 

“Danny’s waiting,” Todd interrupted, drying off the plate, handing it to Dean. “Me and his mom were sort of young when we had him--”

 

Dean smiled and put the plate away. “Really? I hadn’t noticed,” he said sarcastically, nudging Todd playfully.

 

“So I told him that he should always wait until he’s really ready,” Todd continued, “and even though he’s not exactly going to get anybody pregnant, I guess it just stuck. He’s waiting for love.”

 

“Are you sure?” Dean asked, putting a glass in the cupboard. “‘Cause I seem to remember telling Dylan to wait until he was in love and--”

 

“Dean,” Sam interrupted, handing Todd a couple utensils. “If Todd is sure, then he’s sure. We just assumed that they had, Todd knows that they haven’t.”

 

“Well, why didn’t Dylan tell us?” Dean asked, pulling open a drawer. 

 

“That they haven’t had sex?” Sam asked in disbelief. “Because that’s not news, Dean.”

 

Todd smiled and wiped his hand off on his jeans, picking up the dish towel again, drying off another plate. “And I’ve given him the safe sex talk, more than once. He knows. So don’t worry about Dylan or anything. Danny will take care of him.” He gave Sam and Dean a quick smile. “Eventually, anyway.”

 

Sam continued on washing the dishes, but Dean stepped back from the counter, staring at Todd. “You know Todd,” Dean began, “I never realized how freaking weird it is that our kids are dating each other. Until now.” He shook his head and stepped back up, taking a glass from Todd. 

 

* * * *

 

Dylan cupped the back of Danny’s neck, pulling him down into a kiss. “Good movie,” he murmured, eyes flicking up to meet Danny’s.

 

“Sure,” Danny nodded, kissing Dylan again. He reached down and fumbled with his seatbelt, shifting in his seat. “Okay.” He cupped Dylan’s cheeks and held him close as he moved over the seat.

 

Dylan moved against the door, head going back against the window, pulling Danny onto him. “Thanks for the date,” he murmured, smiling against Danny’s mouth, nipping at his bottom lip.

 

“Anytime,” Danny replied, kissing Dylan again, mouth opening against Dylan’s, tongue slipping out to move against Dylan’s. He pressed one hand into the door, the other hand still gripping into Dylan’s hair. He pulled back and his tongue automatically came out, licking at his lips before he dropped his mouth to Dylan’s neck, sucking and nipping and kissing at the skin. “God, Dylan,” he groaned, shifting on him, one leg between Dylan’s.

 

Dylan made a small noise and shifted under Danny, hands gripping at Danny’s shoulders. “Danny,” he said softly.

 

“Hmm?” Danny murmured, moving his hand from the door to skim down Dylan’s sides, fingers moving up under his t-shirt. He began shifting backwards, mouth moving downwards down Dylan’s skin.

 

“Can we stop?” Dylan asked quietly, lightly pushing at Danny.

 

Danny lifted his head, studying Dylan for a moment before he nodded. “Uh yeah, of course.” He sat up quickly, wincing when his head hit the roof of the car. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

 

Dylan dropped his eyes and shifted, getting his feet back on the floor, pulling at his jacket, fixing his hair. “Sorry. It’s just…we’re in your car and--”

 

“No need to explain,” Danny assured him, “you’re right. Besides, I don’t have anything anyway. I was just--”

 

“Yeah,” Dylan interrupted, nodding slowly as his hand moved to the door handle. “I guess I should go.”

 

Danny nodded, leaning over to kiss Dylan’s cheek quickly. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

 

Dylan smiled and nodded, opening the door before climbing out. “Yeah, I’ll call you or something.” He closed the car door and began walking up his driveway, glancing back when Danny pulled out of the driveway. He sighed and walked up the house, walking inside. “Hey!” he called, toeing off his sneakers. 

 

“Hey!” Sam called from the living room, sitting up on the couch. “How was the date?”

 

“Fine,” Dylan nodded, shoving his hands into his pocket as he walked into the living room. “We just went to the movies.”

 

“I figured,” Sam said, making room for Dylan on the couch. He gave a quick smile when Dylan flopped down beside him, shifting. He studied Dylan for a moment, reaching out to fix his hair. “Nice neck thing,” he said, tapping a red mark on Dylan’s neck.

 

Dylan dropped his eyes, popping his collar up to hide the mark. “Yeah, that’s just-- Danny just--”

 

“You two haven’t had sex, huh?” Sam interrupted, pushing his hair out of his eyes. 

 

“What?” Dylan asked quickly, looking over at Sam. “Who--”

 

“Todd told us,” Sam explained. “Said Danny’s a virgin. That true?”

 

Dylan stared at Sam for a moment before finally nodding slowly. “Yeah, that’s true.”

 

“So the hickey,” Sam said, pushing Dylan’s collar down, “that’s the fun you two get into?”

 

“Are you mad that I’m not having sex?” Dylan asked, unsure of what Sam’s point was. “‘Cause I mean--”

 

“We just thought that you were,” Sam explained. “We assumed that you were. We just figured that…you were. Is all. And you’re not, so we’re a little surprised.”

 

“Do we have to talk about this?” Dylan asked, shifting uncomfortably. “I mean, isn’t the safest sex no sex at all?”

 

Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head, staring at Dylan. “Are you mocking me? I mean, my teenaged son, who has already had sex, to remind you, has a boyfriend, two years older than him and you’re not having sex? I’m allowed to be a little surprised.”

 

“Where’s Dad?” Dylan asked, leaning back to look around.

 

“The bathroom,” Sam replied. “And don’t even bother, he’s just as interested in this subject as I am.”

 

Dean shifted, spreading his feet a little more past shoulder width and frowned, wincing as he ran his fingers gently over his testicle. He swallowed hard and leaned against the counter, moving his thumb to the top and two fingers to the bottom, rolling the testicle carefully.

 

“Dad!” Dylan yelled, pushing himself up on the couch.

 

Dean looked up when he heard Dylan call for him and he quickly grabbed his boxers, pulling them back on. “Just a sec!” he yelled, grabbing his pants. He pulled them on, hopping up and down as he pulled them up, opening the bathroom door. “Yeah?” he asked as calmly as he could, walking out of the bathroom. “What’s up? How was the date?” He walked into the living room, sitting down in his chair. “You haven’t had sex with Danny.”

 

“Jesus!” Dylan exclaimed, hands flying to his face as he shook his head. “Like, dear god, people. Okay, yes, I admit it. I have not had sex with my boyfriend, big whoop.”

 

“Whose choice is it?” Dean asked, sitting forward, eyes squeezing shut for a moment as a dull ache started again in his body. “Is it mutual?”

 

Dylan sighed and looked up at the ceiling, biting the inside of his cheek. “Well, I don’t know,” he admitted. “I mean, I’m not completely against the idea, but--”

 

Dean sighed and looked over at Sam, who was watching him back. “Is he pressuring you, Dyl?” he asked gently.

 

“No, he’s not,” Dylan replied quickly. “I swear, he isn’t. We just…make out a lot and then he starts…” he closed his eyes for a moment and let out a deep breath, “and then I ask him if we can stop and then we do. And then we’re done. It’s fine.”

 

“If he ever tries to pressure you,” Sam began, shifting towards Dylan, bringing his legs up, “you can tell us, okay?”

 

“He wouldn’t though,” Dylan insisted. “He-- he likes me. He listens. He won’t do anything until I’m ready.” He sighed and rubbed at his eyes. “But if he ever did…I would tell you. I promise. Okay?”

 

“So I could kick his ass, right?” Dean grinned, sitting back.

 

Dylan rolled his eyes and stood up. “Yeah Dad, so you could kick his ass.” He shook his head and walked down the hall, going to his bedroom.

 

Sam smiled weakly and looked over at Dean, watching him. “What were you doing in the bathroom?”

 

“Uh, you have to ask?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow. “I was in the bathroom, do you really wanna know?”

 

Sam smiled and patted the spot on the couch next to him. “I’m lonely,” he said softly, grinning.

 

Dean sighed in mock exasperation and walked over to the couch, dropping down beside him. “Oh loverboy, what’ll I ever do with you?”

 

“Are you sick?” Sam asked, pressing his hand to Dean’s stomach lightly, watching him wince. “Are you…” he took a deep breath and swallowed hard, “pregnant?” he finished.

 

Dean stared at Sam in disbelief. “No, Sam, I’m not pregnant.”

 

Sam let out a sigh of a relief, withdrawing his hand. “Good. I’m too old to have another kid.” He gave Dean a small smile. “Is it just your stomach then?”

 

Dean thought for a moment before finally nodding. “Yeah. Probably just the stomach flu or something. Just kind of achy.”

 

Sam pouted and leaned in, giving Dean a kiss. “Sorry,” he said softly. He sighed and looked over at the clock on the wall. “You tired? We can go to bed if you want.”

 

Dean shook his head, shifting on the couch. “I wanna stay up. You?”

 

“Sure,” Sam said, shifting, settling against Dean. “Love ya,” he said, looking up, meeting Dean’s eyes.

 

Dean smiled and kissed the top of Sam’s head, arm wrapping around him. “Love ya too,” he said quietly, just closing his eyes. 

 

* * * *

 

Dean took a deep breath as he woke up, feeling Sam stir next to him. He cringed and squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to cry out in pain.

 

“Dean?” Sam mumbled, pushing himself up awkwardly. “Are you okay?”

 

Dean stayed silent for a moment, taking another deep breath before he opened his eyes, swallowing hard. “I think I’m gonna stay in today, Sam. I feel like shit.”

 

Sam sighed and nodded, reaching out to run his fingers through Dean’s hair, kissing his forehead. “Maybe you should call the doctor or something.”

 

Dean shook his head. “Not that bad, I’m sure. Just the stomach flu.” He smiled weakly, reaching up to push Sam’s hair out of his eyes. “I’ll be fine.”

 

“You want me to make you something?” Sam asked, pushing the sheets off of his legs. “Breakfast? Or would that not be good?”

 

“I can just make myself something later,” Dean said before yawning loudly, shifting against the pillows, pushing one up against the headboard. “Or I’ll get Dylan to do it. He’ll be up.”

 

“I think he’s probably spending the day with Danny,” Sam pointed out, picking at his boxers.

 

Dean shook his head, yawning again. “I think Danny’s working today,” he said, grabbing onto another pillow. 

 

“So Dylan will be hanging out at the grocery store today,” Sam smiled, grabbing his t-shirt off the floor. “Either way, he’s not making you breakfast.”

 

“Party pooper,” Dean muttered, rolling onto his side. “I’ll probably sleep till lunch anyway.”

 

Sam smiled and walked out of the bedroom, yawning loudly and stretching his arms above his head.

 

Dean sighed and shifted, unable to find a comfortable position. The ache wouldn’t leave his abdomen and although it didn’t hurt so much, he felt like crying, tears stinging his eyes with the frustration of not being able to get rid of it. He wrapped his arms around his pillow, burying his face. 

 

Sam grabbed a carton of orange juice and nodded his head to the music on the radio as he walked over to the cupboard and grabbed a glass, setting it down on the counter. He poured a glass for Dean and began to walk back towards the bedroom, sighing when he came to the doorway. “Maybe you should take something,” he said, walking into the room. “I can go get you an aspirin or something.”

 

“Sure,” Dean said, looking up when Sam placed the glass on the nightstand. “Thanks.”

 

“Be right back,” Sam said, quickly kissing Dean’s cheek before walking into the bathroom. He grabbed a couple of bottles from the medicine cabinet and walked back into the bedroom. “You want me to stay home with you?” he asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

 

Dean shook his head and shifted, reaching out for his glass.

 

“Want me to make sure that Dylan stays home with you?” Sam asked, handing Dean a couple of pills.

 

Dean shook his head again, swallowing the pills down. “If he wants to go see Danny, I’m not gonna stop him, make him take care of his old man.”

 

Sam smiled and nodded, looking down at the clock. “Well, I’m gonna get dressed, then I gotta head out. Sure there’s nothing you want me to get you?”

 

Dean nodded, settling back onto the bed. “I’m sure. Thank you though.”

 

Sam nodded and stood back up, walking over to the closet. He opened the doors and glanced back at Dean, leaning against the doorframe. He opened his mouth to say something but was cut off before he could even get one word out.

 

“I am fine,” Dean insisted, not even lifting his head. “Just fix my blankets for me.”

 

Sam smiled and walked back over to the bed, pulling up the sheets around Dean, kissing his head. “There we go, that’s the Dean I know and love.” He walked back over to the closet and grabbed a pair of jeans and a polo shirt, dropping them to strip off his t-shirt.

 

Dean grinned and rolled onto his other side, looking past his pillow to watch Sam get dressed. “Still hot, Sammy.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes and pulled on his jeans, glancing back at Dean. “Thanks, Dean. I try.”

 

“Of course,” Dean began, “when I was forty, I looked a lot better.”

 

Sam frowned and turned around, looking at Dean. “Um, I’m only thirty-nine.”

 

Dean grinned and nodded knowingly. “Oh, I know. And I still looked better.”

 

Sam sighed and pulled on his polo, reaching down to grab his t-shirt just to chuck it at Dean. 

 

Dean laughed and pushed the t-shirt off the bed, shifting again. “You gonna leave me?”

 

Sam nodded. “Yeah, I think I’m gonna grab a quick bite on the way, or something. Gotta go make my money.” He walked over to the bed again and leaned down, giving Dean kiss. “Love you.”

 

“Love you,” Dean echoed, watching Sam make his way out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him. He bit the inside of his lip and pushed himself up, grabbing onto his glass, taking another drink.

 

* * * *

 

Dylan stretched out on Danny’s couch, yawning softly. “God, summer break is the best,” he murmured, looking up when Danny walked back into the living room. “No parents.”

 

Danny grinned and leaned down, giving Dylan a quick kiss before taking a drink of his soda, sitting down on the floor beside the couch. “Well, most of the time anyway. That’s why we’re over here, remember?”

 

Dylan smiled and nodded slowly, reaching down to take Danny’s glass, taking a quick drink before handing it back to him. “What time do you work?”

 

“One,” Danny replied, taking another drink. “Or something. I’ll have to make you go back home with your father.”

 

Dylan rolled his eyes. “Great. He’s gonna make me like, make him lunch or something.”

 

Danny laughed softly and shrugged. “Could be worse…somehow. At least you don’t have to bathe him.”

 

“Thanks for that image, Danny,” Dylan muttered sarcastically, shifting on the couch, rolling onto his side. “What time do you get off?”

 

“Nine,” Danny replied, “closing.”

 

“Oh,” Dylan said softly, giving Danny a small smile. “Do you work tomorrow?”

 

“For a few hours,” Danny answered. “But hey, it’ll be Friday night. I’ll drive you down to…somewhere awesome and we can get our party on. Hell, maybe I’ll throw one of my own.”

 

Dylan laughed and rolled onto his back, shaking his head. “Somehow I doubt that.”

 

“Hey, my grandparents have their own cottage,” Danny reminded him, “have a little shindig. People love to party on the water.”

 

“You hate going to parties,” Dylan pointed out, “why the hell would you ever throw one? You wouldn’t like anybody who would go.”

 

“Not true,” Danny protested, pushing himself up onto his knees. “Would you go?”

 

Dylan looked over at Danny. “Well, I sort of assume that I would.”

 

“Then I’d really like at least one of the people who would go,” Danny smiled. 

 

“How much is really?” Dylan asked, rolling back onto his side. “It’s a lot, right?”

 

“A lot,” Danny agreed softly, leaning in to give Dylan a kiss. “Really a lot. Trust me.”

 

“I do,” Dylan said quietly, shifting closer to the edge of the couch, reaching out to grasp onto the collar of Danny’s shirt, pulling him closer.

 

Danny smiled against Dylan’s mouth and set his glass down on the floor, shifting on his knees, bringing his hands up to cup Dylan’s face. “Down here,” he murmured, moving his hands to Dylan’s shoulders as he began to lie back on the floor.

 

Dylan awkwardly pushed himself up, trying not to break the kiss as he moved one leg off the couch, almost falling as he moved the other, laughing against Danny. “Sorry,” he said softly, pulling back to look Danny in the eyes. 

 

Danny shook his head and kissed Dylan again, lying back, pulling Dylan onto him. 

 

Dylan moved his hand to the back of Danny’s neck, the other one pressed to the floor beside his head, fingers trying to curl into the carpet. He swallowed hard and spread his legs, straddling Danny’s hips, unsure of what to do once he felt Danny’s hands on his hips and Danny’s hips began working against his. He pulled back and took a deep breath, swallowing again.

 

“Dylan,” Danny said softly, thumbs rubbing circles on Dylan’s hips, “I--” 

 

Dylan glanced over when the doorbell rang and he looked back down at Danny before slowly rolling off of him. 

 

Danny sighed and pushed himself up, walking over to the front door. “Uh, hi, Mr W-- Dean. Mr Winchester. Are you okay?” he asked, stepping aside to let Dean in.

 

“When do you go to work?” Dean asked, walking in, glancing over in time to see Dylan quickly pushing himself up off the floor. “Dyl.”

 

“Dad,” Dylan said quietly, nodding a couple of times. “You okay?”

 

“When’s your boyfriend go to work?” Dean asked.

 

“One,” Danny finally replied. He glanced down at his watch. “Two hours.”

 

“You got time to drive me to the doctor’s?” Dean asked, looking back at Danny. “Sam has the car and I don’t wanna bother him.” He looked over at Dylan, smiling. “He just freaks about this stuff anyway, you know?”

 

Dylan nodded, walking over to Dean and Danny. “So…do you have an appointment?”

 

“Made it a couple of days ago,” Dean replied, “but like I said…can’t tell your mom. So, can you drive me or not?”

 

“How long do you think it’ll take?” Danny asked, “‘cause I don’t really think that I can be late.”

 

“You’ll be there in time,” Dean assured him, “I promise. And I would take a cab but--”

 

“Dad hates them,” Dylan replied, smiling over at Dean. “You don’t have to Danny, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to.”

 

“It’s no problem,” Danny shrugged, glancing down at his clothes. “And I think I’m ready so…we can go whenever. If you guys are ready.”

 

“I’m ready,” Dean said, turning back around, stepping outside.

 

“Sorry,” Dylan said quietly, reaching up to scratch at his nose.

 

“It’s not a problem,” Danny assured him, reaching out for his sneakers. “So about tomorrow though…tomorrow night. You wanna do something?”

 

Dylan nodded eagerly, walking outside. “Yeah, sure,” he said, smile disappearing once he realized that Dean was in the passenger seat. He rolled his eyes and shook his head, walking over to Danny’s car.

 

* * * *

 

Dean closed his eyes and shifted nervously, spreading his legs. “I…I’ve never had a doctor down there before,” he said, opening one eye to watch the doctor’s reaction.

 

The doctor made a small noise, nodding as he rolled Dean’s testicle between his fingers, before cupping both. “One is larger than the other. Is this normal?”

 

“Uh…” Dean trailed off, squeezing his eyes shut, “this is really sort of embarrassing.”

 

“Don’t be embarrassed Mr Winchester,” the doctor said. “Many men wait much longer than this to come to a doctor and end up much worse. Now, is the size normal?”

 

Dean shook his head. “I mean…the right one was always bigger, but never this much.” He opened his eyes and looked at the doctor. “It’s kind of sore, sometimes. And my stomach--”

 

“Stomach or abdomen?” the doctor asked.

 

“Abdomen,” Dean quickly corrected, “is achy. I’m a little too scared to check for lumps.” He sat back down when the doctor moved away, covering himself back up. “So…it is what I think it is, isn’t it?”

 

“Not for sure,” the doctor replied, sitting down at his desk. “It could be epididymitis, or a hydrocele; cancer isn’t the only choice here.”

 

“But it’s the main choice, right?” Dean asked, watching the doctor. “I mean…how do you tell what it is?”

 

“I’m going to take a blood sample,” the doctor began, “and after that I’ll give you an ultrasound. I also have to examine your abdomen.”

 

Dean let out a deep breath, nodding slowly. “How long is it going to take? My drive has sort of gotta get to work and he can’t be late.”

 

The doctor opened a drawer and pulled out a packaged needle, pulling on gloves before he opened the package. “Well, this won’t take long.” He walked back over to Dean, smiling understandingly when Dean looked away.

 

Dean squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, breathing only once he felt the doctor step away. “Can I just go tell him that he can leave?” he asked, looking up at the doctor. “Or can you? Or can…somebody? I don’t want to make him wait.”

 

The doctor nodded. “What’s his name?”

 

“Dylan or Danny,” Dean replied, “you can tell either one of them.”

 

The doctor nodded and opened the door. “I’ll drop this off on the way.”

 

Dean nodded slowly and waited until the door closed for him to wipe at his eyes, sniffling softly. He swallowed hard, shoulders hunched over and shaking.

 

“Dylan or Danny?” the doctor asked, stepping into the waiting room.

 

Dylan and Danny both raised their hands, straightening up.

 

“Mr Winchester told me to tell you that you don’t have to wait,” the doctor explained. “I still have a couple more tests to run on him and one of you has to make it into work?”

 

Danny looked over at Dylan, who was watching the doctor. He cleared his throat and moved his hand to his pocket, pulling out his cell phone. “I’ll call in sick.”

 

Dylan smiled weakly and looked over at Danny gratefully. “Thank you,” he said, even though he wanted to apologize. 

 

Danny nodded and quickly dialled the number, leaning over to kiss Dylan’s temple. “It’s not a problem,” he assured him softly. 

 

* * * *

 

Dean glanced back at Danny, nodding once at him. “Thanks for the drive.”

 

Danny nodded back at Dean. “It wasn’t a problem. I didn’t really wanna go to work today anyway.”

 

“Are you going with him?” Dean asked, looking up at Dylan as he climbed out of the car, closing the door behind him.

 

Dylan’s tongue came out to wet his lips and he glanced down at the car, before shaking his head. “I’m gonna stay with you." He walked over to the driver side of the car, leaning down. “I’m gonna stay with him,” he said, giving Danny a small smile.

 

Danny nodded understandingly and leaned out of the window, giving Dylan a kiss. “I’ll talk to you later, ‘kay?”

 

Dylan nodded. “We’re still on for tomorrow though, right?”

 

“Of course,” Danny smiled, turning the ignition back on.

 

Dylan stepped back from the car to let Danny pull out of the driveway, sighing before walking up to the house, toeing his sneakers off once inside. “So what’s wrong?” he asked, watching Dean lie down on the couch.

 

“Flu,” Dean murmured, rolling onto his side.

 

“What type of tests do they do for that?” Dylan asked, sitting down at the end of the couch.

 

“Blood,” Dean replied, looking down at Dylan, “stuff.”

 

“Dad,” Dylan said, shifting on the couch, reaching out to set his hand on Dean’s leg, “that’s not the flu. That’s like…how would you know to make an appointment ahead of time for the flu?”

 

“Dylan, you’re too damn smart for my good,” Dean muttered, pushing himself up. “It’s just…my stomach’s hurt for the past few days, real achy. I just wanted to find out what it was. I told Sam it was the flu.”

 

“What is it?” Dylan asked quietly, studying his father with a worried expression.

 

“Don’t know,” Dean replied. “He thinks it just might be…an ulcer or something. Stress, or just the way my stomach is. It’s not a big deal. You can go over to Danny’s now.”

 

Dylan shook his head. “I don’t wanna,” he said. “I’m just gonna stay here with you. It’s fine.” He reached over and grabbed the remote, handing it over to Dean. “We’re going out tomorrow anyway."

 

“Dyl?” Dean asked, lifting his head, shifting to get a better angle at the television.

 

“Yeah?” Dylan asked, quickly glancing over at Dean.

 

“Danny still a virgin?” Dean asked, not even looking at Dylan when he asked.

 

Dylan laughed softly and shook his head, reaching over to grab the remote. “Yes, Dad, Danny’s still a virgin.”

 

“You got a game plan?” Dean asked, pushing himself up.

 

Dylan smiled and shook his head, changing the channel. “No, Dad, no game plan. You know…you guys were really upset when I had sex with Stacy, right?”

 

“Sure,” Dean agreed, nodding slowly.

 

“So why do you guys care so much about when, or if, I’m going to have sex with Danny?” Dylan asked, looking back over at Dean. “Is it ‘cause he’s a boy?”

 

“Well, it’s different when you’re with a boy,” Dean explained. “I mean, for somebody. One of you. And I’m guessing that it’s probably going to be different…for you.”

 

Dylan swallowed hard and shifted uncomfortable. “Ye-- yeah, I figured.” He bit the inside of his lip, taking a deep breath. “Does it hurt?” he asked finally, dropping his eyes.

 

Dean sat up and moved closing to Dylan, studying him. “First time, yeah. Little bit the second time too. But it’s an okay kind of hurt.” He swallowed. “It’s okay.”

 

“I don’t want it to hurt though,” Dylan said, looking up at Dean. “Why do I have to be…you know?”

 

“You don’t have to be, Dylan,” Dean said quietly, smiling, “but maybe you should be talking to Danny about this. Tell him you’re really just not all that comfortable with it yet. ‘Cause judging by the hickeys and the fact that you were just on his floor…I think he’s pretty comfortable.”

 

Dylan cleared his throat and handed the remote back to Dean, curling up against his side. He sighed when Dean wrapped an arm around his shoulders, cuddling closer. “Dad?”

 

“Yeah?” Dean asked, reaching up to run his fingers through Dylan’s hair. 

 

“Will you be mad at me if I sleep with him?” Dylan asked, looking up at Dean.

 

Dean shook his head. “It would take a helluva lot more than that to get me mad at you, Dylan. But you know what I’m going to say, right? Boy or girl. Be safe, be careful. I know that he cares about you a lot, Dylan.”

 

Dylan nodded and settled back against Dean. “Yeah, he does.”

 

* * * *

 

Dean began biting his fingernails, chewing on the skin around them. He shifted and his eyes kept flicking over to Sam, who was reading on the couch. He leaned back and looked around, making sure that Dylan was still outside.

 

“You okay?” Sam asked, not even looking up from his book. “You seem to be…shifting a lot.”

 

“Sorry,” Dean apologized quietly, even as he moved in his chair. “Can…are you doing anything right now?”

 

Sam frowned and lifted the book up, waving it a little. “Yep.”

 

Dean sighed, biting his nails again. “Are you doing anything that you’d be willing to stop?”

 

“Is there something else more important that you want to be doing?” Sam asked, flipping the page, still reading.

 

Dean nodded eagerly. “Yeah. I really gotta talk to you. It’s important. Really important.”

 

Sam nodded as he sat up, setting his book down on the coffee table. “What’s going on? Is it about Dylan?” he asked, leaning forward.

 

Dean opened his mouth to speak, deciding to run with that conversation first. “Uh yeah, actually. It is. He talked to me today, about sex. With Danny.”

 

“Have they had sex?” Sam asked, straightening up.

 

Dean shook his head. “Uh, no. Not yet. But he told me that he wants to, wanted to know what I think about that. I told him to be safe.”

 

Sam sighed, reaching up to push back his hair. “Okay, um…I don’t know if that’s what I would’ve told him but-- he’s got an interesting history when it comes to sex. You sure you would’ve said the same thing if he hadn’t already slept with Stacy?”

 

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe, maybe not. But he did sleep with Stacy, and he does want to sleep with Danny. Even if I told him no, he would’ve done it anyway. He seemed ready.”

 

Sam just shook his head, glancing at the door, hoping that Dylan would come back in from his walk soon so that he could have this conversation with him. “I don’t know.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Are you sure he seemed ready?”

 

“I’m sure that he seemed like…” Dean paused to think, “like he was getting ready to get ready. I’d be surprised if he went over to Danny’s tonight and did it, but in a week? A month? No, not so much.” He swallowed hard and closed his eyes for a moment, knowing that he had to talk to Sam about something else. “I um, went to the doctor today.”

 

“For the flu?” Sam asked, surprised at that statement and surprised at the subject change. “But you hate the doctor.”

 

“It’s not the flu,” Dean said quickly. “I lied. I had a guess about what it was, but I didn’t wanna freak you out, so I didn’t-- I didn’t tell you.”

 

“What would freak me out?” Sam asked, carefully studying Dean. “What’s wrong?”

 

Dean sighed and pushed himself out of his chair, moving over to the couch, sitting down gently beside Sam. “I’m sick.”

 

“I got that,” Sam said, becoming increasingly worried. “I-- I got that. What type of sick? Bad sick?” he finished quietly.

 

Dean rolled his lips into his mouth before he let out a deep breath and nodded. “I don’t know for sure but…um, I really don’t know how to--”

 

“Just,” Sam interrupted, “just say it. I wanna hear it.”

 

“I think I have cancer,” Dean said finally, voice quiet and small, swallowing hard before he could meet Sam’s eyes.

 

“What?” Sam asked. “What…cancer? Like…people die from cancer? That cancer?”

 

Dean nodded jerkily and closed his eyes for a moment. “Of the uh…” he blushed, almost too embarrassed to say it, “testicles. I think I have testicular cancer, Sammy,” he said loudly. “Yeah.”

 

Sam’s mouth was hanging open and he couldn’t help his eyes going downward, before he cleared his throat and jerked back up. “You thin-- um, when will you know?”

 

“I’m not sure,” Dean admitted. “Today’s Thursday, so…probably Monday, I’m guessing. Tuesday. I don’t know, they said they’d call.”

 

Sam nodded slowly, looking away from Dean, tears slowly filling his eyes. “Cancer,” he said in disbelief, shaking his head. “That’s-- people die from cancer.”

 

“I know,” Dean said quietly. “I know. Um, but the doctor told me, thankfully, that testicular cancer has a really high survival rate if--”

 

“If it hasn’t spread,” Sam finished. “Your stomach though…it’s not just in your testicles anymore.”

 

“Probably not, no,” Dean admitted, reaching out to run his fingers through Sam’s hair. “But it’s still good odds.”

 

“If it isn’t cancer, what is it?” Sam asked, still looking away from Dean.

 

“Some…” Dean trailed off, shaking his head, “I’m not sure. Something. He said cancer shouldn’t be the automatic choice here. But I think that’s what it is.”

 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sam asked suddenly, turning back to Dean. “I could’ve went with you today. How-- who did you go with?”

 

“Dylan and Danny,” Dean answered. “I didn’t tell Dylan. I told him it’s…an ulcer in my stomach. I don’t want him to know, until we do.”

 

“Yeah,” Sam breathed, nodding as he wiped at his eyes. “Okay. But you should’ve-- I wish you had told me. I could’ve been with you. I should’ve been with you.”

 

“I didn’t wanna scare you,” Dean said softly, pushing himself up, wrapping an arm around Sam’s neck. “I wasn’t even going to tell you until the test results came back in, but…um, I had to. I couldn’t keep it from you anymore.” He curled up against Sam’s chest, tilting his head to kiss Sam’s neck. “I’m gonna be fine, Sammy,” he assured him, playing with the small curls at the nape of Sam’s neck. 

 

Sam’s shoulders began to shake as he began to cry, eyes squeezed shut. “Okay,” he said finally, voice breaking. “Okay.”

 

Dean pushed himself up and cupped Sam’s cheek, kissing him softly. “Even if it’s cancer. I’ll be fine.” He kissed Sam again, pulling him in tightly for a hug.

 

* * * *

 

Dylan sighed and flipped the page in his book, eyes scanning over the page and he paused for a moment when he heard the car pull out of the driveway. He went back to his book and reached out for his glass, taking a quick drink before he was finally comfortable. He smiled and laughed softly as he continued reading, moving to the next page. He laughed again and reached out for another drink, jumping when the doorbell rang. He sighed and groaned softly, setting his glass and book down on the coffee table. He quickly walked to the door and opened it, trying not to frown when he saw Danny. “Hi,” he said softly, stepping out of the way.

 

“What’s going on?” Danny asked, walking in, leaning over to give Dylan a kiss. “Saw your parents leave.”

 

“Yeah, they’re like, grocery shopping,” Dylan explained. “I was just…reading.”

 

Danny nodded understandingly, looking around. “We haven’t talked since Friday night, I figured it was time I came over. That okay?”

 

“Sure,” Dylan replied, even though he wasn’t entirely in the mood to be around Danny. “What do you wanna do?”

 

“Brought a movie,” Danny said, handing it over to Dylan. “Or you can read to me or something. We can go out.”

 

“It’s Monday afternoon,” Dylan pointed out, “where are we gonna go?”

 

Danny shrugged. “I guess we can just stay in then. Where were you, in the living room?”

 

Dylan nodded and started off back in that direction, Danny following behind him. “How was your weekend?” he asked, sitting down on the couch.

 

“Work,” Danny groaned, flopping down beside him. “Dad made me clean the pool.”

 

Dylan laughed softly. “I could’ve helped you with that.”

 

Danny shrugged. “Didn’t wanna bother you. I thought you were kind of mad at me.”

 

“Why?” Dylan asked, looking over at Danny. “I mean, I’m not, but why’d you think that?”

 

Danny shrugged. “Things were different Friday night, weren’t they?”

 

“I’m not sure,” Dylan said softly, reaching out for his glass. “Maybe a little. I had just-- I had talked to Dad the night before, about us, and I just--”

 

“I talk to my dad about us too,” Danny interrupted. “He told me to apologize to you.”

 

“For what?” Dylan asked, looking over at Danny. “You didn’t do anything.”

 

“I think I did,” Danny admitted, bringing his legs up onto the couch, turning towards Dylan. “So that’s why I came over, to apologize.”

 

“For what?” Dylan asked again. “I-- you didn’t do anything.”

 

“I think I’ve been pressuring you too much,” Danny said softly, dropping his eyes. “I mean, I know you don’t want to, but whenever we’re together that’s what we start doing.”

 

“Danny,” Dylan said softly, reaching out to gently play with one of Danny’s curls, “you’re not pressuring me. I told my parents that you’re not pressuring me. You’re not.”

 

“Are you sure?” Danny asked, reaching to scratch at his back. “Because if I am, I’m sorry. I just…my dad always told me to wait until I was really in love, and we’ve been together for nine months and…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “Did I sort of just say that I loved you?” he asked.

 

Dylan smiled weakly and nodded. He cleared his throat and leaned towards Danny, giving him a kiss. “I um, I-- I like being around you and I really like the kissing. I just really rushed into it the first time, you know? I don’t want it to be like that again. I want it to be with somebody that I really care a lot about.”

 

“I want it to be like that too,” Danny breathed, tilting his head to kiss Dylan, hands moving up to cup Dylan’s cheeks. 

 

Dylan smiled. “I care a lot about you, Danny,” he said, meeting Danny’s eyes, hoping that he understood.

 

Danny smiled back and his tongue came out to wet his lips, taking a deep breath. “I think I love you, Dylan.”

 

Dylan nodded and kissed Danny again, leaning into him. “My parents are gonna come back soon,” he said, pulling back.

 

Danny nodded and moved away from Dylan, swallowing hard. “Got the movie?” he asked, looking over at Dylan.

 

Dylan nodded and reached out, grabbing the case. “Um, you wanna put it in? I’ll go find something to eat.”

 

“Sure,” Danny said, taking the movie back.

 

Dylan sighed as he climbed off the couch, walking into the kitchen. He walked over to the refrigerator and grabbed a can of soda for Danny and set it on the counter, going to the cupboards, finally just grabbing a bag of chips. He carried them both back into the living room, handing Danny the soda, setting the chips on the table. “Um, so…your weekend was crap, huh?”

 

Danny smiled and nodded, opening his drink. “Understatement. I hate my job.”

 

“I’m so glad I don’t have one,” Dylan nodded, looking for the remotes. “But somebody here has to make the money.”

 

Danny laughed softly, reaching out for the bag of chips. “So what book are you reading?” he asked, leaning down to read the cover. “Catcher in the Rye.”

 

Dylan shrugged. “Yeah. I need something to do over the summer.” He grabbed the book, flipping through a couple pages. “I don’t like it very much though.”

 

“No, neither does my dad,” Danny said, reaching out to take it from Dylan. “He had to read it when he was in school.”

 

Dylan nodded and reached out, grabbing a couple of chips, settling back into the couch when the movie started. 

 

“So after the movie,” Danny began, leaning back, resting against Dylan, “wanna go swimming? You know, since I had to clean it and all?”

 

Dylan laughed and nodded. “Yeah, sure. Sounds good.”

 

“Sure does,” Danny agreed, reaching over to set the book back on the coffee table.

 

* * * *

 

Sam sniffled loudly and Dean reached back to grasp onto his hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “I’m going to be fine, Sammy,” he said softly, pushing the door open.

 

“Hey!” Dylan called, waving his hand. 

 

Danny sat up and smiled over at Sam and Dean. “Hi, Mr and-- Dean and Sam.”

 

Dean glanced back at Sam, who dropped his hand from Dean’s and stepped forward. “Danny, can you go home?” he asked, voice shaky. “We gotta talk to Dylan.”

 

“Of course,” Danny nodded, standing up. “I’ll…call ya later, Dylan.”

 

“Yeah,” Dylan said, sitting up, looking back at his parents in confusion. “So what’d you guys go buy?” he asked, realizing that his parents didn’t bring anything home with them.

 

“See ya, Danny,” Dean said, stepping out of the way to let Danny through.

 

“Bye,” Danny said, slipping out the door.

 

“What’s going on?” Dylan asked, noticing the tear stains on Sam’s cheeks. “Are you guys okay?”

 

“Wanna come out here?” Dean asked, sitting down at the dining table. “We have something to say.”

 

Dylan nodded and slowly stood up, walking out to the kitchen. “Am I in trouble?” he asked, glancing back and forth between his parents.

 

Sam shook his head and wiped at his eyes. “No, Dylan, you’re not.”

 

Dean cleared his throat and leaned forward, folding his hands on the table. “Dylan, I’m sick,” he said finally.

 

Dylan nodded. “Yeah, I know. Ulcer or something, right?”

 

Dean looked over at Sam, who had his feet up on the chair, head resting on his knees. “Or something, yeah. It’s not that kind of sick, Dylan. It’s worse.”

 

“Oh,” Dylan said quietly, looking over at Sam. “What kind of worse?”

 

“Like,” Dean swallowed hard and reached out, grabbing onto Sam’s hand, “four hundred people die from it a year, worse.”

 

Dylan looked up at Dean in disbelief, swallowing hard. “Wh-- what? Die? You’re dying?”

 

“I’ll get better, Dylan,” Dean assured him, “I will. I have to have a surgery and then I have to go in for radiation after that--”

 

“You have cancer?” Dylan interrupted. “Radiation, you have cancer? What-- what kind?”

 

“Testicular,” Dean replied softly. “Um…and they think it spread to the lymph nodes in my abdomen. That’s what the radiation’s for.”

 

“What’s the surgery for?” Dylan asked, even though he could probably guess.

 

“They’re,” Dean sniffled and looked over at Sam, who was watching him back, tears still in his eyes, “going to like, cut off the testicle. Or, out. It’s called an--” he looked over at Sam.

 

“Inguinal orchiectomy,” Sam supplied. “They take it out.”

 

Dylan nodded slowly. “How long will it take? When’s the surgery? When do you start radiation?”

 

“It doesn’t take very long at all,” Dean replied. “Same-day surgery, isn’t it Sam?”

 

Sam nodded. “He probably won’t even have to spend the night. And it’s on Thursday.”

 

“Shouldn’t it be sooner?” Dylan asked. “I mean…what if it gets worse?”

 

“I don’t think it’ll get much worse in three days, Dylan,” Dean said. “It’s fine, Thursday’s good. And I start radiation next week.”

 

“How long does radiation take?” Dylan asked, trying not to let himself cry. “Like, a day?”

 

“A little longer than that,” Dean replied. “The appointment is like, half an hour and the doctor said that treatment should be done in little more than a week. Or something like that, right Sam?”

 

Sam nodded slowly. “Since I’m gonna be at work, I need you to stay home next week, Dyl, when I’m not home. Your dad’s going to need help.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I might be a little more tired than usual. I have to eat some different foods. It won’t be that bad.”

 

“I’ll do it,” Dylan said, straightening up. “It’s not a problem. Anything you need.”

 

Dean sighed, reaching up to rub at his eyes. “I’m gonna be fine, Dylan. It’s just…I know cancer sounds really bad, but this kind really isn’t.”

 

“Are they going to take,” Dylan swallowed hard and dropped his eyes, picking at his thumbnail, “both of them?”

 

“Maybe,” Dean said softly. “But either way, I’ll be fine, right?”

 

Dylan nodded dumbly. “You promise?”

 

Dean nodded and leaned over, wrapping his arms around Dylan, pulling him in. “I promise, Dylan,” he whispered, “I promise. I’m gonna be fine. I’ll-- I’ll be fine.”

 

Dylan nodded and pulled back. “How do you feel? Are you in pain?”

 

“Not so much,” Dean replied, sitting back. “My abdomen is kind of achy, but it’s just a dull ache. Everything else is fine, as long as I don’t touch it.” He smiled and reached out, brushing Dylan’s hair off his forehead. “I can’t like, feel it growing inside me or anything, it’s not like that.”

 

Dylan dropped his head and nodded, clearing his throat. “Are you okay, Mom?”

 

Sam nodded and dropped his feet back onto the floor, standing up. “I’m gonna go take a nap.”

 

“I’ll go with you,” Dean said, looking up as Sam walked past him. “You okay, kiddo? We’re gonna go out for supper, so you just gotta kill time for a couple of hours.”

 

“I’m gonna go over to Danny’s,” Dylan said, standing up.

 

“Okay,” Dean agreed, “we’ll go get you when we’re leaving.” He smiled and pulled Dylan into another hug, kissing his temple. “I’m fine.”

 

Dylan nodded and walked over to the door, getting into his sneakers.

 

Dean walked into the bedroom, closing the door behind him, clearing his throat.

 

“You lied to him,” Sam said, climbing under the sheets. “You’re not fine.”

 

“I don’t think he meant emotionally, Sam,” Dean said, pushing down his jeans. “Physically, I am fine.”

 

“You have cancer,” Sam pointed out. “But-- Dean, you’re not fine, not really. You didn’t even cry in front of him.”

 

“I think you’re doing enough crying for both of us,” Dean said, walking over to the bed, climbing in alongside Sam.

 

Sam sniffled and wiped at his eyes, looking over at Dean. “Are you scared?” he asked softly, meeting Dean’s eyes.

 

Dean rolled onto his side, curling into Sam’s chest. “What if I die?” he asked softly, tears finally coming.

 

“Dean,” Sam said softly, wrapping his arms around Dean. “I wouldn’t let you. I would never let you die.”

 

“I don’t think we can stop this one, Sam,” Dean whispered, squeezing his eyes shut, shoulders shaking. “I don’t wanna die. I’m not old enough to die. I-- what if I die?” he cried.

 

Sam kissed the top of Dean’s head, rocking him back and forth, rubbing his back. “I don’t know, Dean,” he admitted finally. “I don’t know.”

 

“I don’t wanna leave him,” Dean cried, reaching between them to wipe at his eyes, “he’s only a kid. I haven’t finished watching him grow up yet. I haven’t finished being in love with you yet. I can’t leave you either.”

 

Sam nodded and squeezed Dean as tightly as he could, sniffling. “I don’t want you to die. I’m scared, Dean. I can’t lose you. I can’t. After Mom and Dad…I can’t lose my brother too.”

 

Dean sniffled and began sobbing even harder, clutching at Sam. “I’m so scared,” he said, voice tiny, forehead pressed to Sam’s chest. “And now I have to lose-- what if they take both of them? I won’t be-- I won’t be able to do anything anymore.”

 

“We’ll figure it out,” Sam promised him quietly, kissing the top of his head. “Hormones, they’ll give you hormones. I just want you to live, Dean. I don’t care about sex.”

 

Dean nodded and kissed Sam’s chest, watching his fingers fan out on Sam’s skin. “I don’t want Dylan to know I’m scared. This is going to be hard enough, I just-- I want him to think I’m okay.”

 

“Dean, you don’t have to be the tough guy all of the time,” Sam said, voice rough. “It might be better, for him to know that you’re scared.”

 

Dean shook his head, hiccupping softly, rolling onto his back. “I just want it all over with. I don’t want the surgery. I don’t want the radiation. What if it doesn’t get rid of it? What if--” he sighed and wiped at his eyes, taking a deep breath. “What if it just comes back somewhere else?”

 

“What’d your parents wanna talk to you about?” Danny asked, meeting Dylan’s eyes. “Everything okay?”

 

Dylan nodded and sat down on the couch, only still for a second before he slowly slid into Danny’s lap, pushing Danny’s curls away from his face.

 

“Uh, Dyl?” Danny asked in surprise. “What’s--”

 

“When’s your dad get home from work?” Dylan asked, cupping Danny’s cheeks, working his hips down against Danny’s. 

 

“Uh,” Danny squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think, which was getting a lot harder with Dylan on top of him, “hour. Hours. Time?”

 

“Four,” Dylan replied, moving his lips over Danny’s neck, moving his hands down Danny’s sides, fingers going up under Danny’s shirt.

 

“Six,” Danny breathed, gripping Dylan’s hips, “he gets home at six.”

 

“Good,” Dylan replied, moving off of Danny, standing up. “That’s enough time.”

 

Danny took a deep breath, eyes going wide as Dylan pulled off his t-shirt. “Uh, wow, Dylan, you’re-- wow. Are you sure?”

 

“I want to,” Dylan nodded, undoing his jeans before turning around, walking in the direction of Danny’s bedroom. “Are you coming?”

 

Danny nodded eagerly and stood up quickly, reaching down to grab Dylan’s t-shirt before following Dylan down to his bedroom. “You’re so hot,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around Dylan’s waist as they walked into the room. “Dylan, what’s going on?” he asked, stepping back. 

 

Dylan shoved down his jeans, kicking them off before walking over to Danny’s bed, sitting down, pushing himself up towards the pillows. “I’m just ready, Danny. And I know that you are.”

 

Danny swallowed hard and pulled off his t-shirt, dropping it down to the floor before pushing down his shorts, moving over to the bed. “Are you sure?” he asked again softly, moving over Dylan, leaning down to kiss him. He moved his mouth down, placing wet kisses over Dylan’s jaw and neck, one hand curled into his bed sheets, the other trailing down Dylan’s chest. “We don’t have to.”

 

Dylan pulled Danny back up to him, meeting his eyes. He smiled weakly, running his hands down Danny’s back, fingers slipping under the waistband of Danny’s boxers. “Danny, I want you in me,” he whispered, a blush spreading on his cheeks even as he began slowly pushing Danny’s boxers down.

 

Danny swallowed hard, staring at Dylan, before he nodded jerkily. He cleared his throat and pushed himself up, quickly shoving his boxers down the rest of the way, awkwardly getting them off. 

 

Dylan’s tongue came out to wet his lips, swallowing hard when he glanced down between them, finally seeing Danny for the first time. He looked up at Danny, meeting his eyes, smiling nervously. 

 

Danny settled back down between Dylan’s legs, eyes fluttering. He shifted and ducked his head, trying to stay calm. “Sorry,” he said finally, lifting his head back up. “I just…”

 

“It’s okay,” Dylan assured him quietly, slowly moving his hands off of Danny to push at his own boxers.

 

Danny gasped a little and closed his eyes, leaning down to kiss Dylan’s temple, lips moving slowly and gently over Dylan’s skin. “I love you, Dylan,” he said, gently nipping at Dylan’s earlobe.

 

Dylan smiled and pushed his boxers down further, leaning up to kiss Danny’s cheek. “I love you too.”

 

Danny lifted his head and smiled faintly, kissing Dylan again as he moved his hands down, pushing his boxers down the rest of the way. He pulled back with a small sigh and ran his hand up Dylan’s side, before glancing down between them. He swallowed hard and looked back up at Dylan, moving between Dylan’s legs, pulling him in for a kiss.

 

* * * *

 

Danny yawned softly and stretched out behind Dylan, curling up behind him. He pressed a kiss to Dylan’s sweaty shoulder blade, running his fingers over Dylan’s flushed skin. “You okay?” he asked softly, voice rough.

 

Dylan nodded, reaching up to wipe at his eyes. “Yeah, I’m okay,” he lied, voice shaky.

 

“Are you crying?” Danny asked in surprise, pushing himself up. “Jesus. Dylan, did I hurt you?”

 

Dylan shook his head, hands curled up to his chest “No, not really. It’s not you.” He sniffled, closing his eyes. 

 

“What is it?” Danny asked, leaning down to kiss Dylan’s temple. “You can tell me.”

 

Dylan took a deep breath and wiped at his eyes again, rolling onto his back. “My dad is sick,” he said, looking up at Danny, shifting his legs until they were spread under the sheets, trying to get comfortable. 

 

“How bad?” Danny asked, fingers moving absentmindedly over Dylan’s chest. “Is he going to be okay?”

 

“He has cancer,” Dylan replied. “I think he’ll be okay, but--” his eyes filled with tears and he stopped talking, trying to calm himself down, “but it’s just really scary.”

 

“Jesus,” Danny breathed, lying back down beside Dylan. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

 

Dylan shook his head. “I knew that you wouldn’t…if you knew. You’d think that that’s why I wanted to do it.”

 

“What type of cancer is it?” Danny asked, pushing his hair out of his face.

 

“Testicular,” Dylan replied quietly, staring up at the ceiling. “They have to take one, maybe both.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Danny said softly, rolling onto his side to kiss Dylan’s chest. He let out a deep breath, kissing Dylan’s chest again. “I’m so sorry, Dylan. But maybe we should’ve waited. I mean, I know that you wanted to but--”

 

“When I was twelve, one day my grandfather was fine, and then the next he wasn’t,” Dylan began, voice almost breaking. “A week ago, my dad was fine, and now he has cancer. I just wanted to be with you before something happened to either of us.” He met Danny’s eyes, leaning up to kiss him. “It was amazing, Danny. Thank you.” He sniffled and smiled weakly. 

 

Danny nodded and kissed Dylan again. “It’ll be okay, Dylan. Your dad’s gonna be fine.”

 

Dylan cleared his throat and nodded, wiping at his eyes. “What type did your mom die from?”

 

“She had breast cancer,” Danny replied, resting his head on Dylan’s chest. “But your dad isn’t my mom and breast cancer is different. Your dad is going to be fine.”

 

Dylan shifted on the mattress, sighing at the ache in his legs and nodded. “I have to go out for supper. But afterwards…can I come back and spend the night?” he asked hopefully.

 

Danny nodded and tilted his head, kissing Dylan’s chest again. “Of course. Anytime you want.” He looked up at Dylan, giving him a small smile. “He’ll be okay.”

 

* * * *

 

“Hey, couple of hours, I’ll be out,” Dean pointed out, squeezing Sam’s hand reassuringly, “and I’ll be fine. Won’t even notice the difference. I’m gonna have brass balls, baby.”

 

Sam smiled and shifted closer to the bed, leaning down to kiss Dean’s forehead. “They’re saline filled, Dean. They’re like breast implants.”

 

Dean grinned and nodded eagerly. “Hey, that sounds pretty damn good to me too.” He smiled and leaned up, giving Sam a soft kiss. “Did ya see the way Danny and Dylan were looking at each other out there?”

 

Sam smiled and nodded. “I think they had sex,” he said softly. 

 

Dean nodded again. “Oh yeah, for sure. And trust me, I plan on hearing all about it. I’ve got nothing but time. You make sure they know that.”

 

“I will,” Sam assured him, standing up. “I plan on getting Dylan to tell both of us all about it. Tonight, once you’re at home and probably on some painkillers.” He leaned down, kissing Dean’s forehead. “I gotta go back to the waiting room.”

 

Dean nodded understandingly and finally let his hand drop from Sam’s. He shifted, giving him a sad smile. “I love you, Sam.”

 

Sam nodded, trying not to let tears fill his eyes. “I love you too.” He smiled and turned, walking out of the room, going down the hall to the waiting room.


	26. Chapter 25 Part B

Title: Look What Love Has Done - Volume 3 - Chapter 25 - Part 2

Pairing: Dylan/Danny, Sam/Dean

Disclaimer: Dylan, Danny and Todd actually are mine. Sam and Dean, are not.

Rating: NC-17.

Summary: Missing scenes from Chapter 25 of Volume Three; Dylan and Danny's first time together. 

 

 

“What’d your parents wanna talk to you about?” Danny asked, meeting Dylan’s eyes. “Everything okay?”

 

Dylan nodded and sat down on the couch, only still for a second before he slowly slid into Danny’s lap, pushing Danny’s curls away from his face.

 

“Uh, Dyl?” Danny asked in surprise. “What’s--”

 

“When’s your dad get home from work?” Dylan asked, cupping Danny’s cheeks, working his hips down against Danny’s. 

 

“Uh,” Danny squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think, which was getting a lot harder with Dylan on top of him, “hour. Hours. Time?”

 

“Four,” Dylan replied, moving his lips over Danny’s neck, moving his hands down his sides, fingers going up under his shirt.

 

“Six,” Danny breathed, gripping Dylan’s hips, “he gets home at six.”

 

“Good,” Dylan replied, moving off of Danny, standing up. “That’s enough time.”

 

Danny took a deep breath, eyes going wide as Dylan pulled off his t-shirt. “Uh, wow, Dylan, you’re-- wow. Are you sure?”

 

“I want to,” Dylan nodded, undoing his jeans before turning around, walking in the direction of Danny’s bedroom. “Are you coming?” he asked.

 

Danny nodded eagerly and stood up quickly, reaching down to grab Dylan’s t-shirt before following Dylan down to his bedroom. “You’re so hot,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around Dylan’s waist as they walked into the room. “Dylan, what’s going on?” he asked, stepping back. 

 

Dylan shoved down his jeans, kicking them off before walking over to Danny’s bed, sitting down, pushing himself up towards the pillows. “I’m just ready, Danny. And I know that you are.”

 

Danny swallowed hard and pulled off his t-shirt, dropping it down to the floor before pushing down his shorts, moving over to the bed. “Are you sure?” he asked again softly, moving over Dylan, leaning down to kiss him. He moved his mouth down, placing wet kisses over Dylan’s jaw and neck, one hand curled into his bed sheets, the other trailing down Dylan’s chest. “We don’t have to.”

 

Dylan pulled Danny back up to him, meeting his eyes. He smiled weakly, running his hands down Danny’s back, fingers slipping under the waistband of his boxers. “Danny, I want you in me,” he whispered, a blush spreading on his cheeks even as he began slowly pushing Danny’s boxers down.

 

Danny swallowed hard, staring at Dylan, before he nodded jerkily. He cleared his throat and pushed himself up, quickly shoving his boxers down the rest of the way, awkwardly kicking them off. 

 

Dylan’s tongue came out to wet his lips, swallowing hard when he glanced down between them, finally seeing Danny for the first time. He looked up at Danny, meeting his eyes, smiling nervously. 

 

Danny settled back down between Dylan’s legs, eyes fluttering. He shifted and ducked his head, trying to stay calm. “Sorry,” he said finally, lifting his head back up. “I just…”

 

“It’s okay,” Dylan assured him quietly, slowly moving his hands off of Danny to push at his own boxers.

 

Danny gasped a little and closed his eyes, leaning down to kiss Dylan’s temple, lips moving slowly and gently over Dylan’s skin. “I love you, Dylan,” he said, gently nipping at Dylan’s earlobe.

 

Dylan smiled and pushed his boxers down further, leaning up to kiss Danny’s cheek. “I love you too.”

 

Danny lifted his head and smiled faintly, kissing Dylan again as he moved his hands down, pushing Dylan’s boxers down the rest of the way. He pulled back with a small sigh and ran his hand up Dylan’s sides, before glancing down between them. He swallowed hard and looked back up at Dylan, moving between Dylan’s legs, pulling him in for a kiss.

 

Dylan moaned when their dicks moved against each other, arching his back slightly. “I’m kind of nervous,” he admitted, meeting Danny’s eyes.

 

Danny nodded dumbly, before breaking out into a grin. “Uh, why?” he asked. “I don’t…I’m not gonna hurt you.”

 

Dylan shook his head, pushing himself up on his elbows. “I’m gonna…” he tilted his head up, mouth by Danny’s ear, “you’re a virgin. I’m gonna be your first.”

 

Danny smiled quickly and blushed, dropping his eyes. “Yeah,” he said softly, clearing his throat.

 

Dylan smiled and cupped Danny’s cheek, giving him a quick kiss. “Are you sure you love me that much?” he asked.

 

Danny looked up, eyes wide as he nodded eagerly. “Jesus, Dylan, of course I do. I want you to be my first. I don’t want anybody else.” He smiled, brushing Dylan’s hair away from his forehead, giving him a kiss. “Jesus. Do you-- are you not in the mood to have sex with a guy?”

 

Dylan tilted his head up, pressing his lips to Danny’s, slowly tracing his lips with his tongue, a thin line of spit connecting them when he pulled back. “I’ve been in the mood to have sex with you since I was thirteen. Gimme a break here.”

 

“Kay,” Danny said, pushing himself up off Dylan, going over to his nightstand. 

 

Dylan closed his eyes and let out his breath, trying to not let his eyes fill with tears, his mind back on his father again as soon as Danny was away from him.

 

“Are you okay?” Danny asked quietly, climbing back onto the bed, nervously looking down at the condoms and lube in his hand. 

 

Dylan opened his eyes and nodded quickly, taking the lube from Danny. “Yeah,” he assured him, “I’m fine.” His hand trembling slightly, he popped the cap on the lube, drizzling some on Danny’s fingers. “Here,” he said, legs falling open.

 

“Oh, right,” Danny nodded, rubbing the lube between his thumb and fingers, shifting on his knees. “Just-- just let me know, okay? If it hurts or if you want something more or anything.” He kissed Dylan and carefully rubbed his fingertips around Dylan’s hole, before finally starting to push the digits in.

 

Dylan blew out his breath, warm air hitting Danny’s curls. He smiled and reached out, playfully pulling on a couple of them, shifting on Danny’s fingers. “Are you trying to be the best boyfriend ever?” he teased, eyes fluttering when Danny tried to stretch him just a bit too much. He grunted softly, shaking his head. “Don’t push too much,” he pleaded softly, giving him a half-smile.

 

“Right, sorry,” Danny nodded, biting down on his lip, staring down at his fingers.

 

“Don’t concentrate so much,” Dylan said, reaching out to cup Danny’s cheek, getting his eyes back on him. “Just…don’t concentrate so much.”

 

“I really don’t know how good I’m going to be at sex, Dylan,” Danny admitted, looking at him, eyes full of worry. “What if I’m bad?”

 

Dylan shrugged, laughing softly. “Then you’re bad. You’ll get better.”

 

“What if I’m like,” Danny shook his head, “really bad? What if I hurt you, or I just have no idea what to do or I--”

 

“Are you going to freak out during this whole thing?” Dylan asked. “You’re almost killing the mood.”

 

“See!” Danny exclaimed, pushing another finger into Dylan. “See, I’m killing the mood already. That’s how bad at sex I am. I just…I’m scared, Dylan,” he said softly. “I don’t wanna mess this up. You. Our relationship.”

 

“You’d have to be really bad at sex to mess me up, Dan,” Dylan said. He opened his mouth to continue but he gasped, moaning loudly. “God, oh my god.” His fingers dug into Danny’s bed sheets, lifting his head up to watch Danny’s hand between his legs. “See?” he asked breathlessly, hand making his way down his chest, fingers pressing into the skin around the base of his dick. “You’re not bad at sex.”

 

“You’re gonna have to help me with the condom,” Danny said suddenly, wrapping his other hand around Dylan’s cock, jerking him a couple of times. 

 

“Don’t try and open it with your teeth,” Dylan warned, turning his head to the side, trying to cover his moans in the pillow. “Bad, bad idea.”

 

“Do you think it’s okay now?” Danny asked, just gently pushing his fingers in and out. 

 

“You’re so freakin’ big though, Dan,” Dylan said, swallowing hard. “I mean, it’s like…just use a lot of lube, okay?”

 

“Whole thing if I have to,” Danny promised, carefully pulling his fingers out of Dylan. He reached out for one of the condoms, lubed fingers slipping on the package. “I-- I can’t--”

 

“You get frustrated too quickly,” Dylan said softly, taking the condom from Danny, easily tearing it open. He took out the piece of latex and handed it over to Danny. “Can you get it from here?” he asked patiently.

 

Danny reached down and fumbled with the condom, trying to roll it down his dick, whimpering softly. “Okay um, just-- just hold on a sec and--”

 

Dylan dropped his eyes and shifted on the bed, waiting for Danny to get the condom on.

 

Danny blushed furiously and dropped the condom, pushing himself up. “I-- I-- I can’t, okay? ‘Cause I suck. See Dylan, I am bad at sex.”

 

“Getting the condom on isn’t part of sex,” Dylan assured him, grabbing another condom, ripping open the package. He sat up, wrapping one hand around Danny’s dick, starting to roll the latex down for him. 

 

Danny’s eyes fluttered closed and he let out a deep breath, cracking one eye open to see Dylan reach out for the lube. “You’re really--” his voice cracked when Dylan began rubbing the lube onto the condom, stroking Danny quickly. “Wow.”

 

Dylan smiled and gave Danny a kiss, thumbing the head of his dick. “This is like, a first for both of us, right?” he pointed out, lying back. 

 

Danny swallowed hard, moving over Dylan, looking down with eyes wide when Dylan’s legs moved up around his waist. He grabbed onto the base of his dick and guided himself towards Dylan’s hole, crying out when he slipped and missed, hitting the mattress. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he muttered, aiming again. He began pressing into Dylan, breathing quick and sharp as he felt his boyfriend opening up around him.

 

“Oh, fuck,” Dylan groaned, dull, achy pain starting. 

 

“I can wait,” Danny assured him, flipping his hair out of his eyes, looking down at Dylan. “I can…do you want to stop?”

 

“Nope,” Dylan said, voice going high, grunting softly. “No, I want this, Danny. God, I want this. I want you. I just…” he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, spreading his legs further, “never would’ve guessed that you’re so big.”

 

“Can I take that as a compliment?” Danny asked, gasping as he pushed in almost all the way. 

 

“Mm-hmm,” Dylan nodded dreamily, moving his hands up Danny’s arms, Danny finally pressing hard against his prostate. “I love you,” he breathed, unsure of what else to say. “I love you, I love you.”

 

Danny pushed his mouth down hard against Dylan’s, pushing his tongue in, and finally thrusting in all the way.

 

Dylan broke the kiss, his whole body trembling, clutching at Danny. He breathed heavily, looking around Danny’s room, eyes wide.

 

Danny buried his face in Dylan’s neck, nipping and kissing furiously at his skin, pulling his hips back, pushing back in.

 

Dylan’s back arched and he groaned, panting loudly in Danny’s ear. One of his hands ran down Danny’s tight back, feeling the muscles below his skin, and the other cupped the back of Danny’s neck, holding him close. “Don’t stop,” he pleaded, “god Danny, don’t stop.”

 

Danny moved his lips to Dylan’s cheek, kissing him over and over, groaning loudly. He lifted his head, shaking it. “No,” he said softly, dropping his eyes. “Oh, god, Dylan,” he muttered, a certain feeling growing in the pit of his stomach and the base of his spine and hips starting to stutter already. “I’m sorry,” he grunted, squeezing his eyes shut, reaching between them to try and start stroking Dylan, “god, but I--” his breath hitched, “Dylan,” he groaned loudly as he came, shooting into the condom. His arms went limp and he had to roll off of Dylan so he didn’t fall on him. He laid next to Dylan, swallowing hard and trying to catch his breath before he looked over apologetically. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I…I’m sorry.”

 

Dylan smiled weakly and shook his head, giving Danny a kiss. “No, it’s okay. It’s fine.” He kissed him again. “It was great.”

 

Danny pushed himself up. “But you didn’t even--” he gestured down at Dylan’s dick.

 

Dylan shook his head again. “I’m fine. And…I just wanted to be with you.” He sighed and pushed himself up, climbing over Danny to drop down onto the floor. “I have to use the bathroom,” he explained, grabbing his boxers off the floor.

 

“My dad’s still not home,” Danny pointed out. “You don’t…”

 

Dylan nodded and dropped the boxers, padding over to the door. He swallowed past the growing lump in his throat and sniffled as soon as he was out of the bedroom. He wiped at his eyes, going into the bathroom.

 

* * * *

 

Danny yawned softly and stretched out behind Dylan, curling up behind him. He pressed a kiss to Dylan’s sweaty shoulder blade, running his fingers over Dylan’s flushed skin. “You okay?” he asked softly, voice rough.

 

Dylan nodded, reaching up to wipe at his eyes. “Yeah, I’m okay,” he lied, voice shaky.

 

“Are you crying?” Danny asked in surprise, pushing himself up. “Jesus. Dylan, did I hurt you?”

 

Dylan shook his head, hands curled up to his chest “No, not really. It’s not you.” He sniffled, closing his eyes. 

 

“What is it?” Danny asked, leaning down to kiss Dylan’s temple. “You can tell me.”

 

Dylan took a deep breath and wiped at his eyes again, rolling onto his back. “My dad is sick,” he said, looking up at Danny, shifting his legs until they were spread under the sheets, trying to get comfortable. 

 

“How bad?” Danny asked, fingers moving absentmindedly over Dylan’s chest. “Is he going to be okay?”

 

“He has cancer,” Dylan replied. “I think he’ll be okay, but--” his eyes filled with tears and he stopped talking, trying to calm himself down, “but it’s just really scary.”

 

“Jesus,” Danny breathed, lying back down beside Dylan. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

 

Dylan shook his head. “I knew that you wouldn’t…if you knew. You’d think that that’s why I wanted to do it.”

 

“What type of cancer is it?” Danny asked, pushing his hair out of his face.

 

“Testicular,” Dylan replied quietly, staring up at the ceiling. “They have to take one, maybe both.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Danny said softly, rolling onto his side to kiss Dylan’s chest. He let out a deep breath, kissing Dylan’s chest again. “I’m so sorry, Dylan. But maybe we should’ve waited. I mean, I know that you wanted to, but--”

 

“When I was twelve, one day my grandfather was fine, and then the next he wasn’t,” Dylan began, voice almost breaking. “A week ago, my dad was fine, and now he has cancer. I just wanted to be with you before something happened to either of us.” He met Danny’s eyes, leaning up to kiss him. “It was amazing, Danny. Thank you.” He sniffled and smiled weakly. 

 

Danny nodded and kissed Dylan again. “It’ll be okay, Dylan. Your dad’s gonna be fine.”

 

Dylan cleared his throat and nodded, wiping at his eyes. “What type did your mom die from?”

 

“She had breast cancer,” Danny replied, resting his head on Dylan’s chest. “But your dad isn’t my mom and breast cancer is different. Your dad is going to be fine.”

 

Dylan shifted on the mattress, sighing at the ache in his legs and nodded. “I have to go out for supper. But afterwards…can I come back and spend the night?” he asked hopefully.

 

Danny nodded and tilted his head, kissing Dylan’s chest again. “Of course. Anytime you want.” He looked up at Dylan, giving him a small smile. “He’ll be okay.”

 

* * * *

 

“Hi, Todd,” Dylan said softly, slipping through the door, trying to give him a small smile.

 

Todd watched Dylan walk in, leaning against the counter. He finally pushed himself off and hurried over to him, pulling Dylan in tightly. “Danny told me,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, Dylan. Tell your parents I’m sorry.”

 

Dylan nodded weakly, resting against Todd, his arms at his side. “Thanks,” he said, stepping back. “Is Danny in his room?”

 

Todd shook his head. “He’s in the pool. Got anything to swim in?”

 

“No,” Dylan said softly, walking past Todd to the back door, sliding it open. He stepped outside onto the patio and closed the door behind him, walking over to the edge of the pool. “Hi,” he said, carefully dropping down beside the water.

 

Danny swam over to him, treading water in front of Dylan. “Hey.” He reached up and gently squeezed Dylan’s knee, flipping his wet curls out of his eyes. “How you feeling?”

 

Dylan shrugged, looking down at his folded hands on his lips. “Okay.” He shifted on the cool concrete, letting out a deep breath. He uncurled his legs, letting his feet drop into the water. 

 

Danny looked down, watching the water rise on Dylan’s jeans, soaking them almost up to the knee. “You’re gonna get wet,” he said dumbly, looking up at Dylan. 

 

Dylan pressed the palms of his hands to the ground, lifting himself up, dropping into the water.

 

“Jesus,” Danny muttered, moving back. “Dylan, you’re…well, I guess that you can always go home for a change of clothes.”

 

Dylan swam away from Danny, ducking his head under the water. His jeans weighed his legs down, but he still moved smoothly under the water. He finally came up, back beside Danny. “Do you think that I can borrow something to sleep in?” he asked quietly, dropping his eyes.

 

Danny nodded and reached out, pulling Dylan into his chest, wrapping his arms around him. He kissed Dylan’s temple, holding him close. “How was supper?” he asked.

 

Dylan rested his head on Danny’s chest, squeezing his eyes shut. “It was the worst meal of my life,” he whispered, trying not to cry. He sniffled, tears leaking out. “None of us even said anything.” He lifted his head, giving Danny a quick kiss. “It’s probably too early to go to bed, huh?”

 

“We can watch a movie or something,” Danny offered, letting go of Dylan to swim to the edge of the pool, lifting himself up. “I’ll find ya something to wear.” He reached down, offering Dylan his hand.

 

Dylan took Danny’s hand and pushed himself up out of the water, looking down at his soaking clothes. He let Danny lead him into the house, looking apologetically over at Todd, realizing the amount of water he was going to be leaving.

 

“It’s okay,” Danny assured him softly, squeezing his hand. “Dad gets it.” He sighed and flicked on his bedroom light, going over to his dresser. He grabbed a pair of boxers and a t-shirt, setting them down on his bed. He grabbed clothes for himself, stepping back. “I’ll go…” he nodded towards the door, “I’ll just--”

 

Dylan stepped into the room, walking over to Danny’s bed. He pulled off his t-shirt and dropped it down onto Danny’s floor, running his hand over his wet stomach. “Can I have a towel?” he asked.

 

Danny smiled weakly and nodded. “Sure thing.” He walked out of his bedroom and down the hall, going into the bathroom. He quickly dropped his swim trunks and pulled on boxers and shorts. Danny pulled a t-shirt over his head, his curls dripping onto the neck. He opened the closet and grabbed a couple of large towels, walking back down to his room. “Here,” he said, offering one to Dylan. 

 

Dylan took the towel and began drying off his chest and arms, shifting on his feet. 

 

Danny took his own towel and began drying his hair, wishing that he thought to spend a few extra seconds on drying his body before getting dressed. 

 

Dylan undid his jeans and shoved them down off his hips, stepping out of them. He glanced back at Danny before pushing down his boxers, grabbing the towel again. 

 

Danny dropped his eyes, clutching his towel to his chest. 

 

Dylan pulled on Danny’s boxers and grabbed the t-shirt, thumbing the hem before pulling it over his head. “Kay,” he said softly, looking back at Danny. “Thank you.”

 

Danny nodded and smiled, walking over to Dylan. “We can watch a movie in here, or in the living room, or wherever. Whatever you wanna do.” He reached down, taking Dylan’s hand again. “What do you wanna do?” he asked gently.

 

Dylan looked up, eyes filling with tears and he sniffled. “I think that if we stay in here, I’m…” he shook his head, “I wanna go out there. With your dad. If that’s okay.”

 

Danny reached back and opened the door, walking with Dylan out into the hallway. “What do you wanna watch?” he asked, going out into the living room. 

 

“Anything,” Dylan replied, looking up at Danny. “I just…wanna watch a movie, with my boyfriend.” He leaned against Danny, nuzzling his cheek against Danny’s shoulder. “I love you,” he said softly, letting Danny lead him to the couch. He dropped down heavily, curling up against the armrest, pulling at the hem of Danny’s shirt.

 

“Dad, pick something, will ya?” Danny asked, sitting down beside Dylan, gently running his hand up and down his back. 

 

“Nothing sad,” Dylan murmured, eyes flicking over to Todd.

 

Danny leaned down and kissed the back of Dylan’s head, playing with his hair. “We can go to bed if you want,” he whispered.

 

Dylan shook his head, shifting to get a better look at the television. “I’m okay,” he answered, lifting his legs up onto Danny’s lap, glancing up at him. 

 

As Todd went over to the DVD player, looking for the remote, Danny shifted on the couch. “So…where did you go for dinner?” he asked, trying to make conversation.

 

Dylan shrugged. “Somewhere semi-fancy, I guess. It was…” he let out a deep breath, sniffling loudly, “Dad didn’t eat much.”

 

Todd looked up, walking back to his chair. “So uh, Dylan--” he stopped when Danny frantically shook his head.

 

Dylan frowned and lifted his head, looking at Danny. “It’s okay, Todd, ask away,” he said flatly.

 

Todd kept his eyes on Danny, and swallowed hard. “Uh, are you hungry? Do you want me to get you something to eat?” he asked.

 

Dylan shook his head before settling back down. “Not right now,” he replied. “Thanks.” He settled into the couch, getting comfortable as the movie started. “Danny?” he asked softly.

 

“Yeah?” Danny asked, quickly glancing down at him.

 

Dylan gave him a weak smile, shifting his legs on Danny’s lap. He shrugged, and finally, really grinned. “Nothing,” he teased.

 

Danny grinned back and leaned down, giving Dylan a kiss. “Nothing,” he mocked, kissing the tip of his nose.

 

“Well, I want popcorn,” Todd announced, pushing himself out of his chair. “And I’m getting you two some too. That awesome cheesy stuff.” He groaned and rubbed his stomach, walking into the kitchen.

 

* * * *

 

Todd yawned loudly, rubbing at his eyes. “Wake the kid up, will ya?” he asked, standing up. 

 

“Is it okay if he sleeps over?” Danny asked, gently lifting Dylan’s legs up off his lap. 

 

“Course,” Todd nodded, making his way down the hallway. “G’night, kiddo!” he called.

 

“Night,” Danny said softly, gently shaking Dylan’s shoulder. “Come on, Dyl, time to wake up.” He stroked Dylan’s cheek, watching his eyes flutter. “Wake up.”

 

Dylan groaned and his eyes opened, blinking a few times as he focused on Danny above him. “What?” he asked, struggling to push himself up.

 

“It’s time for bed,” Danny explained, standing up off the couch. “Come on.”

 

Dylan looked around for the clock, taking Danny’s hand. “I…you shouldn’t’ve let me sleep.”

 

“I didn’t let you, Dyl,” Danny pointed out, flicking off the lights. “You just fell asleep. Come on, we’re going to bed.” He kissed Dylan’s temple, leading him into his bedroom. 

 

Dylan yawned as he stumbled into the room, pulling off his t-shirt. He dropped it onto the floor, looking back at Danny before climbing into the bed. “I’ve never…slept in your bed before.”

 

Danny smiled weakly and nodded, turning off his bedroom light. The room was still lit by the moon, and lights from the next street over. He looked around nervously, before pulling off his shirt.

 

Dylan moved over in the bed, closer to the wall, looking up at Danny. “You can sleep with a shirt on, Dan,” he whispered.

 

Danny pushed his curls behind his ears and pushed the sheets back a little more, climbing in alongside Dylan. “I don’t wanna,” he said softly, shaking his head. He tilted his head, giving Dylan a kiss, smiling against his lips. “Goodnight, okay?” he asked.

 

Dylan nodded slowly. “Goodnight,” he said quietly, snuggling against Danny.

 

Danny smiled and wrapped his arms around Dylan, kissing the top of his head. He took a deep breath, smelling the chlorine still on them both. He closed his eyes and settled into the mattress, pulling up the bed sheets.

 

Dylan nuzzled his head against Danny’s chest, yawning softly. He couldn’t keep his eyes closed, watching Danny’s window.

 

“Too bright?” Danny murmured. “I can keep close the curtains.”

 

Dylan shook his head, blinking a few times. “No, that’s alright.” He closed his eyes and yawned again, fighting to keep them closed. 

 

Danny squeezed his arms around Dylan, gently running his fingers up and down his arms. “Night,” he said, shifting under the sheets.

 

Dylan swallowed hard, and turned his head, kissing Danny’s chest. He smiled weakly, at least thankful that Danny had decided against the t-shirt.

 

* * * *

 

Danny jerked awake, which he thought was strange when he glanced over and realized what time it was. He absentmindedly scratched at his chest as he lifted his head off the pillow, remembering that Dylan had fallen asleep on his chest. “Dyl?” he called, blinking a few times to make sure that Dylan wasn’t in his room. 

 

Dylan groaned loudly, legs curled underneath him as he sat in front of the toilet. He rubbed his stomach pitifully, shoulders shaking as he tried to quiet his sobs. 

 

Danny climbed out of his bed, stumbling when he tripped over his and Dylan’s clothes on the floor. He opened his bedroom door and turned down the hallway to the bathroom, knocking on the door. “Dyl? You okay?” he asked.

 

Dylan nodded, reaching up to wipe at his eyes, sniffling when Danny opened the bathroom door. “Hi,” he said softly, sniffling again.

 

“Are you sick?” Danny asked, walking into the room, closing the door behind him. 

 

Dylan shook his head. “Not yet, no,” he replied, bringing his knees up to his chest. “I feel nauseous, but…I can’t throw up. I’m just--” He scratched his nose quickly. “I’m sorry, Danny, but I wanna go home.”

 

Danny nodded understandingly, helping Dylan up off the floor. “Come on,” he said, wrapping his arm around Dylan’s waist. “I’ll walk you home, okay?” he offered.

 

“Kay,” Dylan nodded, wiping his nose. “Can I-- I have to grab a shirt. You should tell your dad where you’re going.”

 

“Go get your shoes on,” Danny said, letting go of Dylan, “I’ll go do it.” He hurried into his bedroom to grab a shirt off the floor for Dylan, going down the hallway to his father’s room. “Dad?” he whispered harshly, sticking his head in. “You awake?” He waited for a moment, taking a step into the room. “Dad?” he asked again, louder this time.

 

“Huh, wha?” Todd asked, eyes slowly drifting open. “Geez, Danny…the hell time is it?” he muttered.

 

“I gotta walk Dylan home,” Danny explained quickly. “He just wanted me to let you--”

 

“It’s just across the street, Danny,” Todd said flatly. He shook his head, and closed his eyes. “Goodnight.”

 

“Night,” Danny said, walking back towards Dylan, holding a shirt out to him. He swallowed, watching Dylan pull the shirt on before opening the door. “Come on,” he said, smiling, giving room for Dylan to walk out of the house. 

 

Dylan took a deep breath as he stepped out into the cool night, walking down the steps to the driveway, glancing back at Danny.

 

Danny pulled the door closed behind him, jogging after Dylan. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Dylan said, glancing both ways before starting to cross the street. “I…I’m sorry. I really wanted to be able to spend the night with you, especially after-- after today.” He looked up at Danny. “Today was really nice.”

 

Danny smiled and nodded, leaning down to kiss Dylan’s cheek. “I think that we should’ve wai--”

 

“I know,” Dylan interrupted. “I know. But I already told you why I wanted to do it.” He reached back and grasped Danny’s hand, squeezing it gently. “Do you wanna stay over?” he asked, turning the doorknob, sighing when he say that it was locked. He shifted and rang the doorbell, knocking on the door.

 

“I…don’t know,” Danny admitted, shifting on the steps. “I--” He stopped talking when the door opened, seeing Sam standing in the porch.

 

“Hi, Mama,” Dylan said, walking past when Sam stepped out of the way, leading Danny into the house with him. 

 

Sam groaned and rubbed at his eyes, leaning against the door to close it. “What’s going on?” he mumbled, pushing himself off. “You sick?” he asked.

 

“Where’s Dad?” Dylan asked quietly, looking around.

 

“He’s in bed,” Sam said obviously. “He’s tired to begin with, and it’s almost three in the morning.”

 

“Can you get him for me?” Dylan asked hopefully, still clutching onto Danny’s hand.

 

Sam smiled and nodded understandingly, heading towards the bedroom. “Are you staying here or going back to Dan’s?” he asked, pushing open the bedroom door.

 

“We’re staying here,” Dylan replied quickly, resting against Danny. 

 

Sam walked over to the bed, leaning down to kiss Dean’s forehead. “Dylan wants to see you,” he whispered, running his fingers through Dean’s cropped hair.

 

Dean swallowed and his eyes slowly opened, looking up at Sam. “What?” he asked gruffly.

 

“It won’t take too long,” Sam assured him. “You only have to be awake for a minute.”

 

Dean sat up, rubbing at his eyes, feet dropping to the floor. “I still don’t get what’s happening,” he said, slowly standing up. 

 

Sam smiled. “Dylan and Danny are here. Dylan wants to see you.” He followed Dean out into the kitchen, blinking to try and get his eyes to focus without his glasses.

 

“Hey, kiddo,” Dean said, walking over to Dylan, pulling him into a hug. “Hey, Dan,” he said, kissing the top of Dylan’s head, “nice shirt.”

 

Danny swallowed and looked down at his bare chest. He shifted and crossed his arms.

 

“What’s going on?” Dean asked, still holding Dylan tightly. “You okay?”

 

Dylan shook his head, eyes starting to fill with tears again. “I-- I felt…homesick or something. I just--”

 

“I’m not dead yet,” Dean interrupted, pulling back.

 

Sam and Danny both quickly looked up in surprise. “Dean,” Sam began, taking a step towards him.

 

“You don’t have to be scared to leave the house, Dylan,” Dean continued on, ignoring Sam. “I’m gonna be here when you come home. I promise.” He pressed his lips to Dylan’s forehead. “I’m not scared to see you leave; you don’t have to be scared either.”

 

Dylan wiped at his eyes, refusing to look up and let the three of them see him cry, shoulders shaking. 

 

“Danny?” Dean asked, looking over at him.

 

“Uh, yeah?” Danny asked, rubbing his arms, feeling a chill.

 

“Take him down to his room, please,” Dean said, stepping back, letting go of Dylan. “Go to sleep,” he whispered. He ruffled Dylan’s hair and gently pushed him towards Danny. “Kay?”

 

Dylan nodded and wiped at his eyes, walking slowly towards his bedroom. “Goodnight!” he called behind him, taking a deep breath. 

 

“He’s going to be fine,” Danny assured him. “He’s right; you don’t have to be scared." He pushed open Dylan’s bedroom door, ushering him in.

 

Dylan swallowed and nodded, pulling off his t-shirt, tossing it over onto his dresser, climbing up towards the pillows on his bed. 

 

“I should…” Danny nodded towards the door, “I should go home, Dyl. You need the sleep.”

 

Dylan shook his head, reaching his hand out to Danny. “I need the sleep with you,” he corrected. “You can go home in the morning.” He yawned loudly, head sinking into his thick, soft pillows. 

 

Danny nodded and walked up to the head of the bed, climbing under the sheets with Dylan. “You look better already,” he whispered, curling up behind him.

 

Dylan nodded and reached back, grasping onto Danny’s hand, pulling his arm over his waist. He yawned again and pushed back against Danny, closing his eyes. “I love you,” he breathed.

 

Danny turned and kissed the corner of Dylan’s mouth, gently rubbing his hip. “Love you,” he echoed, grinning when Dylan reached up and tugged on a few of his curls.

 

Dylan laughed, dropping his hand back down to cover Danny’s on his hip. 

 

* * * *

 

Danny shifted and carefully moved away from Dylan, climbing out of his bed. He grinned, unable to stop feeling ecstatic from spending the night with Dylan, and being with him the day before, despite Dean being sick. He grabbed the shirt that he had loaned to Dylan off of the dresser and pulled it on, quietly making his way out of Dylan’s bedroom. He almost tripped over the dog, reaching out to the wall as he stumbled, managing to keep himself from falling.

 

“Dylan?” Sam called from the kitchen.

 

“Uh, no,” Danny said, making his way through the living room. “Dan. I…have to get to work. And Dad didn’t know that I was sleeping over and--”

 

“Walk of shame, huh?” Dean asked, appearing from the bathroom. “Dyl gonna be upset when he wakes up and realizes you left?”

 

Danny shook his head quickly. “Can you tell him I had to work? I mean, I think that he knows, but just remind him for me?” He pulled down on the hem of his shirt, feeling exposed in front of Sam and Dean. 

 

“You want breakfast?” Sam offered, hovering by the toaster. 

 

Danny shook his head again. “No, but thank you anyway. I’m sorry that we woke you up this morning, but--”

 

“How bad was it?” Dean interrupted, crossing his arms, watching Danny. “Uh, how bad was Dylan?”

 

Danny looked up at Sam, who was also waiting expectantly, and he swallowed. “He-- I don’t know. He wasn’t himself. He couldn’t sleep. I woke up and he was in the bathroom, sitting by the toilet.” He sighed. “I don’t know,” he said again. “He was really upset.”

 

Dean dropped his eyes, nodding slowly. “Okay,” he said finally, looking back up. “Have fun at work.”

 

“Thanks,” Danny said softly, walking past Sam and Dean towards the door. “I’ll talk to you later.” He walked out into the porch and then outside, going down the steps to the driveway. 

 

* * * *

 

“Where’s Danny?” Dylan asked, lifting his head up off the pillows to watch Sam put clothes away in his dresser.

 

“Gone,” Sam replied, pushing the drawer closed. He turned around, leaning against the dresser. “Want lunch?”

 

“What time is it?” Dylan asked, pushing himself up. 

 

“One,” Sam answered. “Danny left about five hours ago; he said that he had to go to work.”

 

“Yeah,” Dylan breathed, nodding slowly. “That’s right. His shift started at nine, I think. He gets off around four.” He stretched his arms up above his head, shoulders popping. “Is Dad around?”

 

“He’s walking the dog,” Sam said, walking towards the bedroom door. “Come on, get up, I’ll make your lunch.”

 

Dylan nodded and pushed the sheets off of him, standing up and following Sam out of the room. “Doesn’t it worry you?” he asked quietly, eyes flicking up from the floor. 

 

“What?” Sam asked, glancing back at Dylan. “And what do you want for lunch?”

 

“The fact that Dad’s…” Dylan trailed off. “Whatever you wanna make me, Mom.” He sighed and stopped walking, hovering by the couch. “He could die out there.”

 

“He could die in here,” Sam shrugged. “Except that he won’t.” He swallowed hard, opening the refrigerator. “It’s not easy for us either, Dyl.”

 

“I know that,” Dylan nodded. He finally walked into the kitchen, looking up at Sam. “What are we going to do, if he doesn’t--”

 

“Don’t think about it,” Sam said quickly. “We’re not dealing with that right now.” He rubbed at his nose, sniffling softly. They both jumped slightly when the front door open and King Chuck bounded in, Dean following behind him.

 

“What’s going on?” Dean asked, wiping at his sweaty brow. “Finally up, eh kiddo?”

 

“Yeah,” Dylan nodded jerkily. “Mom’s making me lunch.”

 

“Geez Sam,” Dean said, kicking off his sneakers, “the kid’s fifteen.”

 

Sam smiled, nodding. “Yeah well, I still make your lunch.” He stepped back from the refrigerator, moving over to the cupboards. “Speaking of which, what do you want to eat?”

 

Dean laughed, walking over to Dylan, slinging his arm around his shoulders. “Whatever you want to make me, Sammy. I gotta talk with Dyl.” 

 

Sam nodded, letting himself slump against the counter, letting out a deep breath.

 

“What’s going on?” Dylan asked, looking up at Dean. “Are you feeling okay?”

 

“Sit down, please,” Dean said, dropping down onto the couch. He pulled Dylan in, kissing his temple. “How you feeling?” he whispered.

 

Dylan shrugged, settling against Dean. “I felt a lot better once I got home,” he admitted.

 

“I’m sure you did,” Dean nodded. “Still scared?” he asked.

 

Dylan began twisting his hands together on his lap, having no t-shirt to play with. “Yeah,” he answered. “I’m allowed to be.”

 

“I know that, Dyl,” Dean said, “I know. But I’m…” he cleared his throat, closing his eyes for a moment. “Sam is already scared to death. We don’t need another one of him running around.”

 

“Aren’t you scared?” Dylan asked, tilting his head back to look up at Dean.

 

“Who, me?” Dean asked, shifting uncomfortably. “Nah.” He shook his head. “Sam’s scared enough for all of us, I think.”

 

“Dad, this isn’t funny,” Dylan said flatly. “You’re dying. Be scared. Be upset. Me and Mom don’t want to lose you. We want--”

 

“I’m not dying,” Dean interrupted, kissing the top of Dylan’s head. “So shut up about that. I have surgery in two days, and after that it’s treatment and I’m gonna be fine. I’m not dying. I’m sick, but I’m not dying. Okay?”

 

“Okay,” Dylan nodded, shifting on the couch. “What can I do for three hours before Danny comes home?”

 

Dean shrugged, pursing his lips. “No clue, kiddo.” He stood up off the couch. “Eat lunch and then…clean your room or something. I don’t know what kids do these days.” He ruffled Dylan’s hair. “Put a shirt on, for one.” He laughed, and went back into the kitchen with Sam.

 

Dylan slouched down on the couch, running his fingertips over his stomach, shifting his legs. He could still feel a dull ache, and he smiled faintly at the memory.

 

* * * *

 

Dylan carefully slipped in through the front door, looking around. “Danny?” he called, toeing off his sneakers. “Todd?” He sighed, making his way down the hallway. He knocked lightly on Danny’s bedroom door, smiling when he heard the snoring. He had just begun to feel bad for being about to disturb Danny’s sleep when Danny stirred, his eyes flickering.

 

“Hey,” Danny said, rolling onto his back, looking over at Dylan, “what are you doing here?”

 

Dylan shrugged, walking into Danny’s room. “Came to visit my boyfriend. Guess I never considered the fact that I may have caused you to lose sleep last night.”

 

“Not too much,” Danny murmured, reaching his hand out for Dylan. “C’me here, get into bed. Sleep with me.”

 

Dylan smiled and took Danny’s hand in his, climbing under the sheets with him. “I didn’t know that you were sleeping. I wouldn’t’ve come if I knew that you were sleeping.”

 

“Oh, hush,” Danny said, pulling Dylan into him. “I don’t care. So I lost an hour or something. Oh well. Got you into bed with me, didn’t I?”

 

Dylan practically giggled, nodding. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I have to say though, I don’t think that you’re only one who got something out of it.”

 

Danny looked away from Dylan as he yawned loudly, snuggling into the bed. “Yeah, except you didn’t…” he shifted awkwardly, coughing loudly, “you know. Finish.”

 

Dylan leaned over and pressed his lips to Danny’s, softly licking his way into Danny’s mouth. “We can always try again,” he whispered, running his hand up and down Danny’s chest. 

 

“Now?” Danny asked, pushing himself up on his elbows. “Like…now?”

 

“Yeah, why not?” Dylan asked, kissing Danny again. “I want to. Are you too tired?” 

 

Danny quickly shook his head, biting his lip when Dylan slipped his hand underneath the thin bed sheets, palming Danny’s dick through his boxers. He gasped and squeezed his eyes shut, mouth dropping open. “No,” he answered, shaking his head. “Uh,” he waved his hand towards the nightstand, “lube and-- you know, in there.”

 

Dylan pushed himself up on his knees and peeled off his t-shirt before grabbing the lube and a condom, dropping back down. “Should I-- do you want like, a blow job or something first?” he asked, popping and closing the cap in his hand absentmindedly. 

 

“Uh, no,” Danny replied, giving Dylan a quick smile. “That’s okay. But um…do you want one?” he asked quietly. 

 

Dylan shook his head. “No, that’s alright.” He pushed Danny down onto the mattress, giving him a kiss as he moved his legs over Danny’s hips, settling down on his lap. 

 

“Is it just me--” Danny began, breaking away from the kiss.

 

“Or is this a lot more awkward than the first time?” Dylan finished, grinning.

 

“Okay, thank god,” Danny murmured, reaching up to play with Dylan’s hair. “It’s not too bad though, right?”

 

Dylan kept smiling and shook his head. “Second time is kind of as big as the first,” he said seriously. He began running his fingertips over Danny’s chest, watching it rise and fall with his breath. “I mean, the first time…I know that I was nervous. Scared. I wanted to enjoy it but--”

 

“Do you wanna…” Danny interrupted Dylan, but then trailed off, moving his hands to Dylan’s hips, “do you wanna be on top?” he asked quietly. “I mean…” he smiled faintly, watching Dylan in awe, “do you wanna fuck me?” 

 

“Do you want me to?” Dylan asked, panting quietly, eyes going wide. He shook his head. “Danny, I don’t have to. I-- we-- you can get used to me first, and then we can change.”

 

“Do you know how much I love you?” Danny asked sitting up, wrapping an arm around Dylan’s shoulders, pulling him down. 

 

Dylan smiled and ducked his head, nodding quickly. “Yeah, I do,” he said softly, turning his head to kiss Danny’s cheek. “I love you too.”

 

“Get your jeans off,” Danny commanded lightly, running his fingers through Dylan’s hair. 

 

Dylan moved himself off of Danny, dropping his feet down onto the floor, unbuttoning his jeans. He stood up and pushed his jeans down, stepping out of them. He looked back to watch Danny take off his boxers, and he pushed his own off. He pushed the bed sheets out of the way and climbed back on the bed, leaning down to kiss Danny.

 

Danny moaned into Dylan’s mouth, grasping onto his arms, maneuvering Dylan to be beneath him. He kept the kiss going, reaching down blindly for the lube. He grasped onto it, having to finally break the kiss to manage to get it on his fingers. He swallowed hard as he began tracing Dylan’s hole and he moved down the bed, nervously hovering his mouth over the head of Dylan’s dick as he pushed his fingers in.

 

Dylan grunted softly and his hips bucked gently, starting to pant already.

 

“I wanna do this,” Danny whispered, looking at Dylan for permission. “Okay?”

 

Dylan nodded eagerly, clenching down around Danny’s fingers. “Okay,” he replied, voice shaky.

 

Danny closed his eyes and opened his mouth around the head of Dylan’s dick, sucking on it gently. That quickly got him a large splash of precum, and he pulled off with a grimace and a cough.

 

Dylan could feel his face and chest start to heat up with embarrassment, and he began muttering his apologies.

 

“I’m sorry,” Danny said, lifting his head, still working his fingers in and out of Dylan. “I-- I don’t--”

 

“Get up here,” Dylan grumbled, grabbing onto Danny’s shoulder, trying to pull him back up, to get face-to-face. “It’s okay,” he whispered, gently moving his lips over Danny’s. “I’ve never given one either.”

 

Danny dropped his eyes and nodded, pulling his fingers out to get more lube. 

 

Dylan shifted on the mattress, closing his eyes and sighing dreamily. “I love you,” he breathed. 

 

Danny fumbled with the condom, but managed to get it on this time, without Dylan’s help. He moved up between Dylan’s legs, grasping onto the base of his dick, starting to press forward. 

 

Dylan gasped at the stretch, spreading his legs are far as he could, wrapping them around Danny’s waist. He began to lift himself off the bed, clutching at Danny, rocking down on Danny’s dick. 

 

Danny moved his mouth over Dylan’s neck, slowly pushing in, wondering if he could ever get used to the amazing feeling of Dylan around him. When he pressed against something inside Dylan, and his boyfriend clenched hard around him, he smiled weakly to himself. Probably not, he thought.

 

“Deeper,” Dylan whined, trying to use his legs to pull Danny further inside him. 

 

Danny slipped his arms under Dylan’s back, wrapping them around him, pulling him up onto his lap. 

 

“Aah!” Dylan cried loudly, mouth hanging open as he was stretched in ways that he hadn’t been before. 

 

Danny’s head fell back, a couple of his curls stuck to his forehead. He moved his hand to cup the back of Dylan’s head, holding him closely and he finally got some strength back to lift his head back up, kissing Dylan’s forehead.

 

Dylan trembled on Danny’s lap, his fingers leaving red marks on Danny’s pale skin. He dragged his nails down Danny’s chest before moving his hand to his dick, starting to jerk himself off quickly.

 

“Yeah,” Danny nodded eagerly, mesmerized by the purple-red head of Dylan’s dick peeking out from Dylan’s fist. “I wanna watch.” He quickly looked back up, meeting Dylan’s eyes. “I wanna watch you come.”

 

Dylan huffed, nodding. “Won’t take long,” he muttered, the words barely coming out intelligible.

 

Danny couldn’t do much with his hips, Dylan’s weight bearing down on him making it hard to thrust up, but he could tell that Dylan was getting enough stimulation from it. And if Dylan could, than he could too. Dylan was already clenching around him and though he hadn’t seen Dylan come before, somehow, he could tell that he was just about to.

 

Dylan began taking short jerky breaths, and Danny began to get scared that he wasn’t breathing enough when Dylan’s head when back, his voice breaking with a loud cry and he came, shooting some onto Danny’s stomach, but most stayed on his fist. “Oh my god,” he gasped, still hard in his hand, still wanting to come.

 

Danny looked down in wonder, trying to breathe slowly, Dylan clenching around him. 

 

“Keep going,” Dylan pleaded, trying to move to lay back, “keep going.”

 

Danny shifted and pushed himself up on the knees so that he could lay Dylan back down, thrusting in quickly.

 

* * * *

 

Dylan followed Sam into the hospital room nervously, a couple of their fingers locked together.

 

“Dean?” Sam asked quietly, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He leaned in to kiss Dean’s cheek, listening to him breathe. 

 

“Mm,” Dean groaned softly, head lolling around. “Baby?” he murmured, eyes opening, but barely.

 

Sam smiled in amusement and nodded gently, grasping onto Dean’s hand with his other one. “Right here, Dean. We’re right here.”

 

“Pickle too?” Dean asked, blinking his eyes, trying to focus on Dylan through the haze of anesthesia and painkillers.

 

“Yeah, Dad,” Dylan nodded. “I’m here too. The doctors said that you can come home now.”

 

“Yeah,” Dean sighed, nodding slowly. “Yeah, I heard. I…” he began rocking back and forth gently, looking at Sam. “Are they gone?” he asked softly. 

 

Sam wanted to drop his eyes, but he didn’t, keeping them on Dean’s. “Yeah,” he whispered, “they are. I’m sorry.”

 

Dean shrugged and grunted as he tried to sit up, squeezing Sam’s hand. “Ain’t nothing that you could do. Me either.” He licked his chapped lips, smacking them lightly. “Pickle?” he asked, reaching up to rub at his eyes.

 

“Yeah, Dad?” Dylan asked, taking a step towards the bed.

 

“I love you,” Dean said softly, eyes starting to shine with wetness. “Do you love Danny?”

 

Dylan frowned and quickly looked over at Sam, who shrugged. “Uh, pardon?” he asked.

 

Dean stared at Dylan for a few more seconds before he began laugh, so hard that he was thankful for the painkillers. “Take me home, Sammy,” he whined, finally catching his breath. “I wanna go home and go to bed.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam nodded, laughing softly. “I’ll go get a nurse, ‘kay?” He stood up and kissed Dean’s forehead, walking by Dylan.

 

Dylan waited until Sam was out of the room, and he nodded. “I do love him,” he said finally. “He loves me too.”

 

“Good,” Dean said, smiling dreamily. “I’m happy for you.”

 

“Thanks,” Dylan said softly, shifting on his feet. “We uh--”

 

“We know,” Dean interrupted. “I may be drugged and Sam may be an idiot--”

 

“Hey!” Sam interrupted, walking back into the hospital room. “I am not.”

 

“But we figured it out,” Dean finished. “Was it fun?”

 

Dylan’s eyes widened and he rolled them, heading back out towards the waiting room. “I’m not talking about this with you!” he called, walking by the nurse.

 

Sam laughed and sat back down, giving Dean a kiss. “You’re so bad,” he smiled, kissing him again.


	27. Chapter 26

Title: Look What Love Has Done - Volume 3 - Chapter 26

Pairing: Sam/Dean, OMC/OMC

Disclaimer: Not mine

Rating: R this chapter

Summary: Along with his body, the cancer begins to take a toll of both Dean's relationship with Sam, and Dylan's relationship with Danny.

Author's Note: Forget volume one, forget volume two; this is volume three 

 

fifteen years, four months and three days old

 

“I don’t have to go to work today,” Sam said, rubbing nervously at the spot where his shirt met his neck, watching Dean closely. “I really don’t.”

 

“I told you I wanted you to,” Dean pointed out, shifting against the pillows. “Remember? And you agreed. Sam, you were there when I had the surgery. This is just radiation.”

 

“It isn’t though,” Sam said softly, shoving his hands between his legs, trying to stop scratching himself. “It’s not just radiation. It’s radiation and it’s important. It could save your life, you know.”

 

Dean smiled and leaned forward, kissing the tip of Sam’s nose. “Oh, Sammy, ever the drama queen.”

 

Sam shook his head, pushing himself up. “Why the hell are you even going if all you’re gonna fucking do is joke about it? I don’t want you to die, is that such a crime?”

 

“No, but you babying me just because I’m sick is!” Dean exclaimed. “I’m still your older brother Sam, and you don’t boss me around. And I’m still a guy, balls or no balls, so you don’t get to treat me like a girl just to make yourself feel better.”

 

Sam shook his head and sat back down on the bed. “I don’t do it to make me feel better; I do it to make you feel better. I just want you to be comfortable.”

 

“I just want you to stop reminding me that I’m dying,” Dean said softly, reaching out for Sam’s hand. 

 

“I don’t like that word,” Sam said quietly, reaching up to wipe at his eyes as nonchalantly as possible. “You’re not dying. Like, a week of radiation therapy and you’ll be fine.”

 

“Dylan’s going with me,” Dean pointed out, “and so I assume that Danny’s going to be there too. It’s not like I’m going to be alone. The appointment hardly takes any time at all, I will be fine.”

 

“Will you call me afterwards?” Sam asked hopefully, looking back at him. “I just wanna know how it goes.”

 

Dean nodded. “Yeah, of course. I promise, I will call you.” He leaned forward and gave Sam a kiss, smiling against his lips. “Or Dylan will, or something. You will be informed.”

 

“I gotta go,” Sam said, standing up again. “If you don’t call me, I’ll call you.”

 

“Somehow, I don’t doubt that,” Dean grinned. “Now get to work before your ass gets fired.”

 

Sam nodded and smiled over at Dean before slipping out the bedroom door, pulling it closed behind him.

 

Dean’s grin disappeared and he closed his eyes, rocking back and forth against his mountain of pillows and his pile of blankets, hand pressed to his abdomen. He let out a deep breath and opened his eyes, pushing his blankets off of him, slowly standing up. He fixed his shirt and boxers, walking out of the bedroom, making sure that Sam had actually left before he began making his way down to Dylan’s bedroom, pushing open the door. 

 

Dylan stirred in his sleep, arms wrapped around one of his pillows, a little bit of drool coming out of his mouth.

 

Dean smiled and walked over to the bed, pushing the covers back to climb in alongside Dylan, slowly lying back.

 

Dylan groaned softly and rolled over, taking his pillow with him. “Danny?” he murmured, eyes moving under the lids.

 

Dean smiled weakly and shook his head, reaching out fix Dylan’s hair. “Dad,” he corrected softly.

 

Dylan’s eyes finally opened, small slits that were barely focused on Dean. “Whas’ goin’ on?” he asked, weakly pushing himself up.

 

Dean shook his head. “Just trying to get some sleep. I’ll wake you up later, ‘kay?”

 

Dylan nodded and rolled back onto his side, legs stretching out, feet brushing against Dean’s.

 

Dean smiled and began gently playing with the hair at the nape of Dylan’s neck, softly humming to him.

 

* * * *

 

“It’s okay to be nervous, Dad,” Dylan said, glancing over at Dean. “Do you want me to stay with you?”

 

Dean shook his head. “No, that’s fine. Waiting room is good. And I’m not so nervous anymore. They already cut off my balls, what else can they do?” He grinned, trying to lighten the mood.

 

“You don’t have to joke about it all the time, Dad,” Dylan said quietly, looking down.

 

“God, you sound just like Sam,” Dean muttered. “I’m sorry, okay? I don’t mean to be so…crude. If you want to go in with me, you can, it’s fine.” He reached out, grasping onto Dylan’s shoulder. “Sorry.”

 

“It’s okay,” Dylan said, looking back up at him. “I’ll just go wait in the waiting room, that’s fine.”

 

“Alright,” Dean nodded, pulling Dylan in for a quick hug. “Thanks for taking care of me, kiddo,” he whispered, kissing Dylan’s cheek.

 

“It’s fine,” Dylan said, pulling back. “You’re not really as tough to take care of as I thought you’d be. I thought you’d be ringing a bell every ten seconds or something.”

 

Dean grinned and pulled Dylan in again. “To Sam, sure; but I’d never do that to you, Dyl.” He smiled and nodded, looking up when the doctor came into the room. “So you’re going?”

 

Dylan nodded and stepped back from Dean. “I’ll be waiting.” He smiled at the doctor and opened the door, glancing back at Dean before walking out.

 

“How are you feeling today, Mr Winchester?” the doctor asked.

 

Dean cleared his throat and swung his legs back and forth, nodding. “I’m good, I guess. Abdomen is still achy, but um…further south seems okay. I didn’t think I’d have to get used to fake balls, but they’re weird.”

 

“You will adjust to them,” the doctor assured him, giving Dean a quick smile. “How is the size?”

 

Dean grinned. “Um, they’re okay. They’re the same size.”

 

“Yes, they are,” the doctor agreed. 

 

“Hey doc, can I ask you something?” Dean asked, straightening up. “Where are my real ones? I mean, are they like, in a jar somewhere or something?”

 

The doctor laughed and shook his head, pushing his glasses up. “How about we just get started, Mr Winchester?”

 

Dean sighed and shifted nervously, nodding. “Yeah, o-- okay.”

 

* * * *

 

“Soup,” Dean groaned, rolling around on the bed. “God, I feel like shit.”

 

“Do you need me to feed you?” Dylan asked softly, ready to pick the bowl up off the nightstand. “‘Cause I mean, I can. It’s not a problem.”

 

“You’re not supposed to feed me until I’m eighty,” Dean muttered, trying to push himself up. “Dylan, I don’t--” he let out a deep breath. “Are you sure it’s not too much trouble?”

 

Dylan nodded. “I’m sure,” he assured him. “Okay, just-- just sit up against the pillows.”

 

Dean looked up at Dylan helplessly, tears filling his eyes. “Dylan,” he said softly, sniffling loudly. 

 

Dylan nodded and dropped the spoon back down, standing up to help Dean sit up against the headboard, pillows shoved behind him. “Good?” he asked, sitting back down.

 

Dean nodded slowly and sniffled again, opening his mouth for Dylan.

 

Dylan slowly brought the spoon up to Dean’s mouth, biting his lip when a couple of drops fell from the spoon. The spoon finally made it into Dean’s mouth and he let out a sigh of relief, pulling the spoon back out. “Okay?” he asked, dipping the spoon back into the bowl. 

 

Dean nodded slowly, a tear finally running down his cheeks. “Can you call your mom?” he asked quietly.

 

Dylan nodded and stood up, walking over to the dresser to grab Dean’s phone, quickly dialing Sam’s number. “Hey, Mom?” He leaned against the dresser, nodding quickly. “Yeah, he--” he looked over at Dean, turning to face the wall, “he just wants you home.” He nodded again. “Yeah, okay. I will. Love you.” He turned off the phone and set it back down, walking back over to the bed. “Do you want more?” he asked, looking at Dean.

 

Dean nodded and opened his mouth again, jaw trembling as his eyes filled with even more tears.

 

Dylan looked down and began bringing the spoon up to Dean, rolling his lips into his mouth. “There we go,” he said softly, pulling the spoon out. 

 

“I don’t want anymore,” Dean said, shaking his head. “I just want a nap.”

 

“Mom’s gonna be home soon, you want me to wake you back up when he is?” Dylan asked, dropping the spoon back into the bowl. “Do you want me to stay with you?”

 

Dean nodded slowly and sniffled, worming his way down a little, not wanting to be propped up as much. 

 

Dylan nodded and stood up, walking over to the other side of the bed, lying down on top of the covers, rolling over onto his side. “It’s okay, Dad,” he said softly, throwing one arm over Dean’s chest, looking up at him.

 

Dean shook his head and wiped furiously at his cheeks, looking away from Dylan. “I don’t wanna be sick anymore,” he cried, squeezing his eyes shut. “I wish-- I wish I was better.”

 

“You will be soon though,” Dylan assured him. “The radiation will be done by next week and then you’ll-- and you’ll be all better.”

 

Dean shook his head again, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Whatever you say, Dylan,” he muttered, trying to resist the urge to throw up.

 

* * * *

 

Sam sniffled and held the glass of water up to Dean’s mouth, smiling weakly when he took a drink. “Okay, now the orange.”

 

Dean shook his head. “I don’t feel well.”

 

“You have to eat, Dean,” Sam insisted, holding the piece of fruit up to Dean’s mouth. “Please? For me?”

 

Dean sighed and finally opened his mouth, taking a bite of the orange. “Can we go out afterwards? The room is small when you’re in it most of the day.”

 

Sam nodded and held the glass up again, watching Dean drink. “We can go for a walk, or a drive, or…I bet we could just take a dip in Todd’s pool. Whatever you want.” He tried to smile at Dean, setting the glass back down on the nightstand.

 

“I wanna see Mike,” Dean said, watching Sam peel more of the orange. “I told him we’d go see his new place before--” he half smiled. “We don’t have to be there long if you don’t want.”

 

Sam sighed and nodded, holding up another slice of orange. “No, I wanna see him, and the kids. I think getting out would be good for us.”

 

“Where’s Dylan?” Dean asked, playfully nipping at Sam’s fingers. “Wait, don’t tell me.”

 

Sam smiled and shook his head. “They’re in the backyard, playing soccer. You think he’d wanna come?”

 

“Dylan?” Dean asked. “Uh, I don’t know. You can ask. I don’t think Cillian is going to want Danny there though.”

 

Sam nodded and stood up, walking over to the bedroom window that opened to the backyard. “Dylan?” he called outside, giving him a quick wave.

 

“Yeah?” Dylan asked, trying to juggle the soccer ball, but failing miserably, laughing loudly. 

 

“We’re going to Mike’s,” Sam replied, pushing the window open a little further. “Are you coming?”

 

Dylan sighed and picked up the soccer ball, tossing it over to Danny. “You wanna come with?” he asked, walking over to Danny.

 

Danny shook his head. “Nah, Dad probably wants to do something anyway. He thinks we spend too much time together.” He grinned and leaned in, giving Dylan a quick kiss. “Wonder he got that idea?”

 

Dylan shrugged. “I have no idea.” He looked back over at the bedroom window. “Yeah Mom, I’m coming!”

 

Sam smiled at Danny and stepped back from the window, walking back over to the bed, sitting down. “You want more orange?” he asked quietly, shifting out of the way when Dean began slowly climbing off of the bed. “No?”

 

Dean shook his head, reaching out for Sam’s arm. “Do I look okay?” he asked, gripping onto Sam.

 

Sam nodded, walking with Dean over to the bedroom door. “You look fine.”

 

“Fine fine, or cancer fine?” Dean asked, moving his hand to his stomach. 

 

“Fine fine,” Sam assured him, looking up when Dylan walked into the house. “You know where they moved to, right?”

 

Dylan nodded. “Cillian told me. Why, you guys need directions?” He smiled as he glanced out the kitchen window, watching Danny make his way down the driveway. 

 

“Dylan?” Sam asked quietly, smiling in amusement. “You can be away from him for a couple of hours. He’ll still be there when you get back.”

 

Dylan smiled and nodded slowly, turning back to his parents. “Uh, yeah, sorry. I just…” he smiled again, dropping his eyes. “We love each other,” he said finally, looking up at his parents. “We told each other that.” His smile disappeared and he nodded nervously. “Yeah.”

 

Dean’s tongue came out to wet his lips and he nodded as he began to walk over to Dylan, pulling him into a hug. “That’s great, kiddo. That’s…that’s amazing.” He pulled back, smiling at him. “I’m really happy to hear that.”

 

Dylan let out a small sigh of relief and nodded a couple of times. “I really was too.” He smiled and looked past Dean, over at Sam. “It was nice to-- to hear it.” He cleared his throat and nodded a couple of times, glancing back towards the door. “Are we going?”

 

* * * *

 

“Hey Sam, come here,” Dean said, reaching out.

 

Lorelai turned around and grinned at Dean, walking over to him. “My name’s Lori,” she said proudly, climbing up onto Dean’s lap.

 

“Well, is it okay if I call you Sam?” Dean asked, smiling at her. 

 

Lorelai looked over at Michael, who just nodded. “Okay.”

 

“Okay!” Dean repeated, grinning at her. “Now…what are your brothers up to?” he asked, looking around the living room.

 

“Lori, honey, why don’t you go find Alby?” Michael asked, leaning forward in his seat. “Cill and Dyl are together, maybe Alby wants to play with somebody.”

 

“I don’t like playing with his trucks,” Lorelai whined, even as she climbed off of Dean’s lap, walking off in the direction of Albany’s bedroom. 

 

Sam looked over at Dean, shifting closer to him on the couch. “I wish you wouldn’t call her Sam.”

 

Dean grinned, looking over at Sam. “Yeah, I know.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head. “So uh, this place is really great, Michael. It’s cute. Do any of the kids share a room?”

 

Michael sighed and nodded. “Alby and Cill, for now. I…I don’t really know what I’m gonna do about that. This place was just sort of the quickest place I could get.”

 

Sam nodded understandingly, reaching out for his drink. “It’s nice. I’m sure Cillian doesn’t mind sharing a room.”

 

Michael shrugged. “He’s getting older. You think that Dylan would want to share a room right now?”

 

Dean and Sam glanced at each other. “Uh no, definitely not now,” Dean said slowly, smiling over at Michael. “He’s uh…back in the sex game.”

 

“Dean,” Sam groaned, leaning his head back. “Do you really think that Dylan just wants that broadcast across the state?”

 

“Who’s broadcasting?” Dean asked, winking over at Michael. “But anyway, he is. Just so you know.”

 

Michael smiled and nodded, looking up when he heard Lorelai shriek from the bedroom. He stood up quickly and walked over to the entrance to the hallway, leaning against the wall. “Lori? You okay?”

 

“She’s fine, Dad!” Albany called, sticking his head out of his bedroom. 

 

Michael sighed and nodded, listening for a few more moments before walking back over to his chair, sitting down.

 

“How are they doing?” Sam asked quietly, leaning forward in his seat. “Lorelai, especially. Is she holding up okay?”

 

Michael nodded. “I think so. She asks about Paula more than the boys, of course, but um,” he cleared his throat, “but she’s okay, I think. Every other weekend, if she wants.”

 

Sam nodded and glanced over at Dean, frowning slightly when he noticed the look of discomfort on his face. “Are you okay?” he asked, moving closer to Dean.

 

Dean nodded and let out a deep breath, rubbing his stomach gently. “Ye-- yeah. I’m fine.” He smiled up at Sam. “I promise.”

 

Sam nodded and wrapped his arm around Dean’s shoulders, settling back into the couch. 

 

“Did they take ‘em both?” Michael asked, looking over at Dean. 

 

Dean glanced over at Sam before nodding, looking back at Michael, reaching up to scratch at his temple. “Uh, yeah, they did.”

 

“I’m really sorry,” Michael said quietly, straightening up for a moment to crack his back. “How’s the radiation going?”

 

“It was my first appointment today,” Dean replied, “and uh, not so well. I’m just sick, I guess. A little nauseous.”

 

“Well, thanks for coming over then,” Michael smiled, “since you probably weren’t feeling up to it.”

 

Dean gave Michael a quick smile before looking over at Sam, who had his bottom lip between his teeth.

 

“So uh,” Cillian nodded slowly, glancing over at Dylan, “are you and Danny still--”

 

Dylan nodded, eyes flicking up to look over at Cillian. “Uh-huh,” he said flatly. 

 

“He never liked me,” Cillian reminded Dylan.

 

Dylan looked up at Cillian again. “That was like, eleven years ago, Cill. We were just kids.”

 

Cillian shrugged. “Still. He never liked me.”

 

Dylan sighed and rolled his eyes. “So uh…you and that girl-- what’s her name again?”

 

“Erin,” Cillian replied. “And yeah.”

 

Dylan sighed and nodded slowly, picking at his shirt, trying to cool down. “So how’s your mom?” he asked, lifting his head.

 

Cillian shrugged. “Don’t know. Don’t see her.”

 

“Oh,” Dylan said. “Right. So um…getting ready for school?”

 

Cillian looked over at Dylan and sat up quickly. “You don’t have to try making conversation. I get that we don’t have much in common anymore.”

 

Dylan dropped his eyes and sighed, pushing himself up off the bedroom floor. “It’d be a lot easier if we went to the same school.”

 

Cillian nodded, looking when Lorelai came running into the room. “Lori,” he whined, ready to push himself off the bed. “Dylan and me are hanging out.”

 

“Albany’s bothering me,” Lorelai explained, climbing up onto the bed, “make him stop.”

 

“Lorelai,” Cillian said, rolling his eyes, “leave us alone.”

 

“It’s fine,” Dylan said, looking over at Cillian. “I mean, she’s not bothering me or anything.”

 

Lorelai stuck her tongue out at Cillian, looking over Dylan. “Hi, Dylan.”

 

Dylan smiled. “Hi, Lori,” he gave her a small wave.

 

“Your daddy calls me Sam,” Lorelai said, moving towards the edge of the bed. “That’s your mommy’s name.”

 

Dylan nodded. “Yeah; I think you were named after him.”

 

“Why weren’t you named after him?” Lorelai asked, looking down at Dylan. “He’s your mommy.”

 

Dylan shrugged. “I don’t know. I was named after my grampie instead.” He smiled at Lorelai.

 

“Dylan, will you braid my hair?” Lorelai asked.

 

“I’m not sure that I know how to braid hair, Lorelai” Dylan admitted. 

 

“Come here, Lorelai,” Cillian said, reaching out for his sister. “I’ll do it.” He sighed and pushed up his sleeves, waiting for Lorelai to move closer to him and he reached out, running his fingers through Lorelai’s hair, pulling the elastics holding her ponytails out, dropping them down onto his bed.

 

Dylan smiled and watched Cillian with his sister, leaning back, arms behind him.

 

* * * *

 

“Can I kiss you?” Sam asked softly, running the tips of his fingers through Dean’s short hair. 

 

Dean shook his head, trying to roll away from Sam. “I’m not in the mood, Sam. I’m tired.” He sniffled loudly and sighed, slowly moving onto his side.

 

Sam nodded and swallowed hard, staring up at the ceiling, listening to Dean’s breathing. “Sorry,” he said softly, “I just--”

 

“Yeah, okay,” Dean interrupted. “I’m just…not feeling very kissable right now.”

 

Sam nodded again, laying there for another moment before sitting up, moving the sheets off of him. “I’m going to go watch some television.”

 

Dean made a small noise and rolled his eyes, looking back to watch Sam pull on a t-shirt. “Yeah, whatever.”

 

Sam glanced back at Dean, wanting to say something, but he wasn’t sure what. He finally just turned back around, walking out of the bedroom, pulling the door closed behind him.

 

Dean squeezed his eyes shut and wrapped his arms around his pillow, shoulders shaking as he began to cry.

 

Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath, leaning against the wall. He sighed and said a quick and quiet prayer, before walking into the living room. He sat down on the couch, bringing his legs up to his chest, closing his eyes.

 

Dean sniffled and let out a loud sob, slowly rocking back and forth. He lifted his head and shoved his pillow away, rubbing his aching stomach. He sat up on the bed, swallowing hard. He wiped at his eyes and looked around the room helplessly, wishing that he was feeling kissable at the moment. He sighed, reaching up to push at the stretched collar of his t-shirt, sniffling again. He stood up slowly and walked into the bathroom, not turning on the lights. He sighed and pushed down his boxers, examining himself in the mirror. 

 

Sam looked over when he heard Dean walking around, dropping his eyes back down when he realized that he wasn’t out in the living room. “Please, God,” he muttered, rocking back and forth, “please. Please just make him better. Let him live.” Tears filled his eyes and he squeezed his eyes shut. “I don’t care if it’s like this for the rest of our lives, just let our lives be long.”

 

Dean stared at himself in the mirror, eyes full of disgust, reaching out to grab onto the glass by the sink. He cried out loudly and threw the glass at the mirror, sobbing again as he stepped back, falling against the wall, sliding down onto the floor.

 

Sam quickly stood up, running into the master bedroom, looking around before he realized that Dean was in the bathroom, hurrying in. “Dean, are you--” he cried out in pain when he felt something cut his foot. “Fuck, what the hell is that?” he asked, hopping up and down as he reached out for the lights. He saw the glass on the floor and drops of blood, looking over at Dean. “Are you okay?” he asked, leaning against the counter.

 

Dean shook his head, curling up against the wall. “Leave me alone,” he sobbed, reaching out for his boxers.

 

Sam let go of his foot and dropped down beside Dean, wrapping his arms around him. “What’s wrong?” he asked softly, holding Dean to him.

 

“What do you think?” Dean asked. “I’m sick, Sam; I’m sick and I’m dying and I can’t even touch you anymore.”

 

“You’re not dying,” Sam said softly, “you’re not. You’re going to be fine, you have to be.” He sniffled. “And I don’t care whether you can touch me or not. I just want you to be okay.”

 

“How can you even want to kiss me?” Dean asked. “I’m not the guy you fell in love with anymore.” He followed Sam with his eyes as Sam pushed himself up, grabbing a towel, sitting back down beside him.

 

Sam pressed the towel to the bottom of his foot, wincing slightly. “Because you have--” he stopped talking, unsure of what to say.

 

“Because I have fake balls?” Dean exclaimed. “You can’t even say it, how the hell are you dealing with it?”

 

“I just didn’t want to offend you!” Sam explained. “I don’t know what you want me to say anymore, I don’t know what you want me to do. You won’t let me kiss you, or touch you. It’s like we’re just back to being brothers.”

 

Dean dropped his eyes, sniffling. “What if I don’t make it?” he asked. “What will you do?”

 

Sam shrugged, shaking his head. “I have no idea,” he admitted. “Cry.”

 

“I meant with your life, Sam,” Dean snapped. “What will you do with your life? I wanna know. I want you to have to think about because--”

 

“It’s not going to happen,” Sam interrupted, shaking his head.

 

“It’s a possibility!” Dean continued. “And you have to accept that!”

 

“I don’t want to!” Sam yelled. “I can’t! How the hell do you expect me to accept the fact that I could wake up one day and you be dead? I won’t do it. And I’m sure as fuck not going to come up with a plan as to what I’m going to do if it happens.”

 

“I don’t want you to let Dylan walk all over you,” Dean said quietly, reaching out for Sam. “I don’t want you to let him go all emo either. Make him smile. Make sure he stays with Danny. He loves him, you know.”

 

Sam nodded quickly, eyes filling with tears. “It won’t happen, Dean,” he whispered. “You won’t die.”

 

“Don’t stay in all the time,” Dean continued on, ignoring Sam’s comment. “Go out. With Todd, or Michael. Or Peter and Lacy.”

 

“Yeah,” Sam breathed, looking down at the floor. “Okay.”

 

“Don’t be lonely,” Dean said, reaching out to play with the ends of Sam’s hair. “Find somebody else.”

 

Sam shook his head. “Never,” he said, looking back up at Dean.

 

Dean smiled, sniffling loudly. “Sam, you found somebody when you were with me, I’m sure you can find somebody after me.” He chuckled, earning a glare from Sam. “Just make sure he’s a good father to Dylan. If Dylan doesn’t like him, that’s okay. He won’t, no matter who he is. But if he loves you,” he moved closer to Sam, meeting his eyes, “and he takes care of you…then it’s okay.”

 

Sam slowly pulled the towel away from his foot, examining the blood, picking at the fibers. “And if you live?” he asked. “Then what?”

 

Dean grinned and leaned in, finally kissing Sam, lips sticking together as they pulled apart. “Then I love you forever,” he said, kissing Sam again, “and when I die, I die old. A lot older than this. Okay?”

 

Sam’s voice broke as he tried to speak and he just nodded, wrapping his arms around Dean, pulling him in tightly. “I love you,” he managed before he began to cry into Dean’s chest, fingers clutching at him. 

 

“I love you too,” Dean whispered, kissing Sam’s cheek, holding the back of his head, pulling him down onto him. “It’s okay, Sammy, it’s okay.”

 

Sam nodded and he pulled back from Dean, moving his hands to Dean’s cheeks, pulling him in for a kiss. 

 

* * * *

 

Dylan yawned and rolled over onto his stomach, fingers fanning out on Danny’s bed sheets. He groaned softly and lifted his head when Danny settled down half on top of him. 

 

Danny turned his head and pressed a kiss to Dylan’s back, sighing. “What do you wanna do now?” he asked.

 

Dylan rolled his eyes, moving under Danny. “Sleep,” he muttered. “Lots of it.” He reached back, pulling at the sheets, snuggling into the bed. 

 

“You don’t wanna talk or anything?” Danny asked, lifting his head off of Dylan.

 

Dylan shook his head. “Uh, no.” He looked over at Danny’s alarm clock. “Not until, at the least, seven-thirty.”

 

Danny sighed and pushed himself off of Dylan, sitting up, legs curled beneath him. “Since we started having sex, that’s sort of all that we do.” He reached out, brushing Dylan’s hair off the back of his neck, fingers trailing over Dylan’s back, watching him shiver. “You don’t wanna talk about your dad?”

 

Dylan sighed and rolled onto his back, grasping onto Danny’s wrist. “Since my dad got sick, that’s sort all that we do.” He let go of Danny, looking up at him expectantly. “Danny, I don’t know why you wanna keep bringing it up. Can’t I just enjoy being around my boyfriend for once with being reminded that my dad could die?”

 

Danny looked down in shame, nodding slowly. “Ye-- yeah, you’re right. I just-- some people keep it in because they don’t have anybody to talk to. I just want to let you know that I-- I know what you’re going through and--”

 

Dylan groaned loudly. “Stop saying that! You don’t know what I’m going through! God, you’re so fucking annoying!” He sat up quickly, staring at Danny in disbelief. “That’s not what I meant. I didn’t-- I’m sorry?”

 

Danny shook his head, picking at his comforter. “I think I got the message, Dyl.” He sighed and lied down, facing away from Dylan. 

 

“Danny,” Dylan said softly, reaching down to play with Danny’s curls. “I’m sorry. I didn’t-- you’re not annoying. You’re being nice. Sweet, even. I just…I’m just tired and on edge, I guess. It’s not you.” He lied down, curling up behind Danny, kissing his neck. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

 

Danny nodded, glancing back at Dylan, and he had to smile at his wide and hopeful eyes. “It’s okay. Sorry. We can just sleep.”

 

“Yeah?” Dylan asked.

 

Danny nodded, tilting his head back to give Dylan a kiss. “Let’s just sleep.” He shifted and rolled onto his back, letting Dylan lie down on his chest. He yawned softly and settled into the bed, kissing the top of Dylan’s head. “I just want you to be happy, you know.”

 

Dylan nodded slowly, pulling at the bed sheets. “I know,” he breathed.

 

Danny swallowed and cleared his throat, squeezing his arm around Dylan gently. “And I’m always here for you, if you need me.”

 

“I know,” Dylan said again, taking a deep, calming breath, trying not to snap again.

 

Danny moved down further on the bed, until they were face to face. “I love you,” he said, smiling weakly.

 

Dylan gave Danny a kiss, rolling onto his side. “Love you too.” He smiled and rolled away from Danny, sighing, hands curled up under against his chest. 

 

Danny opened his eyes and watched Dylan, rolling his lips into his mouth. He tried not to speak, but he wasn’t ready for the conversation to be over. “We hardly talk,” he said quietly, pausing a moment to see if Dylan had heard.

 

Dylan’s eyes shot open. “Because there’s only one thing that you wanna talk about right now, Danny. And it’s driving me up the wall.”

 

“It’s an important thing,” Danny argued. “Your dad is sick. And you won’t say anything about it.”

 

“There’s nothing to say,” Dylan said. “God, Danny, when the hell did our relationship became all about my father?”

 

“The same time it became all about sex!” Danny yelled.

 

“Fine!” Dylan yelled back, throwing the sheets off of him. “Fuck, Danny, if you don’t wanna fuck me anymore, all you have to do is say so!” He stood up quickly, reaching down to grab his boxers, pulling them on.

 

“I just know how my dad is about my mom,” Danny said, sitting up. “How many times have you heard him talk about her? He never does, Dylan, I don’t want you to be like him!”

 

“What happened with your mom was different,” Dylan snapped, looking around for his shirt, “okay? You said it yourself, my dad is not your mom! And guess what? I’m not your dad and I’m not you! I’m sorry if I would just rather keep it myself then bring it up every second.” He looked at Danny, shaking his head. “You don’t know how I feel. You don’t. And it pisses me off every time you say it.” He pulled on his jeans, still looking for his shirt.

 

“My mom died,” Danny said, moving his legs off the bed. “Your dad is dying. How do I not know how you feel?”

 

“You don’t remember her!” Dylan said angrily. “She died when you were what, two? You probably didn’t even know she was gone and it probably only took you a new toy to get you to forget about her. It’s not the same.”

 

“You’re an asshole,” Danny said, watching Dylan in disbelief. “You know that? You’re a fucking asshole. My mother is dead, Dylan. Don’t talk about her like that.”

 

“Like what?” Dylan snapped, turning back to Danny. “When my dad dies, I’ll remember him. I’ll miss him. I’ll have to watch him go. I know that he’s sick, I know that he could die. You didn’t even know your mom was sick! How old were you when you finally figured out that she was gone?” Before he could even think, Danny had raised his hand and slapped Dylan, glaring up at him. Dylan clutched at his cheek, looking down at Danny, swallowing hard.

 

“I always missed her,” Danny gritted, standing up, shoving Dylan out of the way. “I knew when she was gone. I always knew. My grandparents told me I cried at her funeral.” He shook his head, eyes filling with tears. “You’re right, you’ll remember him, everything about him. I don’t remember anything about my mom. You know what it sounds like when your dad says that he loves you. I don’t even remember what her voice sounded like. Your dad might not make it to your sixteenth birthday, but my mom didn’t make it to my third. I know how you feel, Dylan. But you need to shut the fuck up and stop pretending that you know how I feel.” He walked over towards the door and reached down, grabbing Dylan’s t-shirt, throwing it at him. “Get out,” he said quietly, opening his bedroom door.

 

Dylan swallowed hard and pulled his t-shirt on, quickly walking past Danny out of the bedroom, not even glancing at him. He slipped his feet into his sandals and unlocked the front door, stepping out into the night. 

 

Danny shook his head and closed his bedroom door, dropping down onto his bed, head in his arms, tears running down his cheeks. 

 

Dylan wrapped his arms around himself, the night surprisingly cool as he hurried across the street, making it to his driveway. He glanced back at Danny’s house before he fumbled through his pockets, looking for his house key. He began tapping his foot nervously, moving to his back pockets. He whimpered softly when he realized he didn’t have it and he banged on the door once before dropping down onto the stairs, dropping his head into his arms, sobbing quietly.

 

* * * *

 

“Have you ever heard of ‘exposure’?” Sam asked, looking over at Dylan. 

 

Dylan shrugged, before shaking his head slowly. “I knew I wasn’t going to die outside, Mom. I just…didn’t wanna bother anybody.”

 

“Why were you home anyway?” Dean asked, taking a drink of his water. “I thought you and Danny were spending the night together.”

 

Dylan’s eyes flicked up over to Dean, swallowing. “We just got into a fight. He kicked me out.”

 

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Danny kicked you out? I don’t think Danny’s ever kicked you out from anywhere. What the hell was the fight about?”

 

Dylan shook his head. “Nothing. I just…said some things that I shouldn’t have said.”

 

“Like what?” Sam prompted. “If you can’t tell us it must be pretty damn bad.”

 

“I insulted--” Dylan shook his head, reaching out for his glass of milk. “I said some things about his mom.”

 

Sam’s mouth opened in disbelief and he looked over at Dean, who was simply staring at Dylan. “You what?”

 

“Dylan, Jesus,” Dean breathed, “you can’t do that. That’s-- his mother’s dead, Dylan. You don’t speak ill of the dead.”

 

“It wasn’t--” Dylan cleared his throat, scratching at his cheeks. “I didn’t speak ill of her. I told him that he didn’t know how I felt because his mother died before he could even start to remember her. I told him to shut up about it and stop bringing you up.”

 

Dean dropped his eyes, nodding once. “And you couldn’t come up with a nice way to tell him that?”

 

“Dad, cancer isn’t your life!” Dylan exclaimed. “But Danny, and Mom, they’re making it that way!”

 

Sam sighed, rubbing at his eyes. “Dylan, what you said, and I’m guessing that you’ve edited it for us, was wrong. You don’t know what it was like for him.”

 

“Stop playing so goddamn innocent,” Dylan snapped. “I want-- I just want people stop bringing it up. Dad’s getting better, but everybody keeps talking like he’s dying! Like he’s not going to be here this time next year and I’m just sick of it. If that’s what it took to get him to shut up for once, then fine.” He pushed his chair back, walking out of the kitchen. “I’m okay with that.”

 

Sam shook his head, looking over at Dean. “Guess we weren’t the only people yelling last night.” He yawned softly, reaching up to rub at his temples. “Is it just me, or are things falling apart?”

 

“It’s just you,” Dean said, cocking his head to the side. “Come on, Sam, did you really expect everything to be fine after this? It’s a lot of stress, and the kid’s already a goddamn hormone-ridden boy. I’m surprised he didn’t snap earlier; he’s been doing a lot better than I expected.”

 

Sam nodded understandingly, still rubbing at his temples. He sighed and looked up, glancing over at the clock on the wall. “Come on, you’ve got your appointment.” He pushed his chair back, looking into the living room. “Dylan, are--”

 

“I’m not going,” Dylan interrupted. “Sorry, Dad.”

 

“Yeah,” Dean said, slowly pushing himself up, reaching out for Sam. “We won’t be long.”

 

Dylan nodded and rolled onto his side, yawning. “I’ll be here,” he muttered. “Probably until school starts.” He put his face in his hands, shaking his head. “Fuck,” he said softly.

 

Sam helped Dean pull on his jacket, glancing back at Dylan. “If you do out though, leave a note.” He opened the door and stepped out of the way, letting Dean walk by him, Sam’s hand on his back. He reached back and pulled the door closed behind them, making sure Dean didn’t stumble. They both looked up when they heard the screech of tires, just in time to see Danny peel out of the driveway.

 

“You think they’re gonna make it?” Dean asked, pulling open his door.

 

Sam thought for a moment, before climbing into the car. “Well, you told me I gotta make sure that Dyl stays with him, so…yeah.” He gave Dean a quick smile, buckling his seatbelt. 

 

* * * *

 

“Anything in particular you want, Dad?” Dylan asked, leaning against the doorframe.

 

Dean shook his head. “No, I’m fine.” He shifted under the sheets, closing his eyes. “Just lock the door behind ya, ‘kay?”

 

Dylan nodded and smiled. “Love you,” he said, before turning around, walking into the kitchen. “I’m ready,” he said, looking up at Sam.

 

Sam nodded. “Yep, me too. You wanna stop for supper on the way back somewhere? I’m not in the mood to cook.”

 

“Sure,” Dylan said, opening the door. He stepped outside and walked down the steps, looking back to make sure that Sam locked the door. “Do we have a list or anything?” he asked, climbing into the car.

 

Sam shook his head, climbing in after Dylan. “Nope. Just winging it. I know that we don’t really have much of anything, so…if you see something that you want, put it in the cart, I guess.” He glanced over at Dylan, giving him a quick smile before turning the key in the ignition, pulling out of the driveway. “You feeling okay?” he asked, reaching down to turn the air conditioning on. 

 

Dylan looked out the window, drumming his fingers on his knee. “Yeah,” he said softly. He took a deep breath, shifting in his seat. “I’m fine.”

 

* * * *

 

Dylan stopped walking as soon as they were in the door, glancing over at Sam. “I uh, um…I don’t really know if we broke up or not,” he admitted, walking over to Sam.

 

Sam looked over at Danny, who was arranging new bags of apples, oblivious to the fact that they had just walked into the store. “Well, we go do it all in reverse and avoid him.”

 

“I don’t want to avoid him,” Dylan said, “I want to talk to him. Of course…I highly doubt that he wants to talk to me. I mean, he didn’t insult my mother.”

 

“Good,” Sam said, smiling, “‘cause I’d have to kick his butt.”

 

Dylan smiled up at Sam, but his smile disappeared when Danny turned around, finally noticing them. He shifted awkwardly and met Sam’s eyes, stepping closer to him. “Is he looking?” he asked softly, lips barely moving.

 

“Uh, yeah,” Sam said, nodding, looking over at Danny, who had moved a little closer. “Dylan, why don’t you just go talk to him? You have to eventually. May as well do it in public.”

 

Dylan sighed and nodded, slowly walking away from Sam until he was in front of Danny. He cleared his throat and swallowed, looking up at him. “Uh, hi.”

 

Danny nodded, fixing his name tag. “Hi,” he said, glancing over at Sam, giving him a slight wave.

 

Sam nodded and smiled, starting off with the cart.

 

“How are you?” Dylan asked, crossing his arms.

 

“Fine,” Danny replied, “and you?”

 

Dylan looked down and cleared his throat again. “Uh, yeah. Good. Or no, okay. I’m okay.”

 

Danny nodded understandingly. “Glad to hear it,” he said. “Your dad doing well?”

 

Dylan nodded. “His last radiation session is soon, so…yeah. He seems pretty happy with that. Or he would, if he wasn’t so tired.” He glanced over at Sam, who was, at the least, pretending not to listen to them. “We’re just grocery shopping.”

 

Danny nodded. “Well, this is a grocery store,” he pointed out, looking around.

 

“Right,” Dylan said softly, ducking his head. “Um, that was stupid.”

 

Danny shook his head. “No, it wasn’t stupid.” He swallowed hard and began looking around the store, nodding slowly.

 

“I’m sorry,” Dylan said suddenly, looking up at Danny, “for what I said. I really am. I understand if you don’t accept it or don’t forgive me, because it was really rude and just awful and I should never have said it. You were being so nice to me, that’s all you’ve been to me and I just--” he shook his head, looking away as he wiped at his eyes, “I was so mean to you.”

 

“I shouldn’t’ve hit you,” Danny said softly. He reached out, fingers lightly tracing Dylan’s cheek. “Especially not that hard.”

 

“I deserved it,” Dylan said, swallowing. He sighed and shoved his hands in his back pockets. “I uh, I just-- you didn’t really say and although I can sort of assume, I have to know for sure.”

 

“Yeah?” Danny asked, dropping his hand from Dylan’s cheek.

 

“Are we broken up?” Dylan asked, looking up at Danny. “If we are, I-- I completely understand and I hope that we can still be friends, but--”

 

“Dylan,” Danny said softly.

 

“If we aren’t,” Dylan continued on, “then I think that maybe we should spend some time together. Doing what we both want. No sex. No talking about my dad. Or…something like that.”

 

“I didn’t break up with you,” Danny said. “So unless you broke up with me…but you’re right. No sex, and I won’t bring up your dad. But if you want to talk about him, then that’s fine.”

 

“Thank you,” Dylan said softly, lifting his head to look around for Sam. “Dad’s at home and so, we should probably get this done quickly and get back to him, so--”

 

“No, of course,” Danny nodded. “I gotta get back to work anyway. I’m sure milk needs to be put away or something. But I’ll call you later, okay?”

 

Dylan nodded and finally smiled, taking a small step. “Yeah, that’d be great. I gotta go.” He smiled again and gave Danny a quick wave before walking off in the direction of Sam, glancing back more than once.

 

* * * *

 

Dylan shifted in the waiting room, hands trembling slightly as he held the magazine in his hands, foot tapping incessantly. “Please, God,” he breathed, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. 

 

“Dylan,” Danny said, wrapping his arm around Dylan’s shoulders, “you need to calm down. Just take a deep breath.”

 

Dylan looked up at Danny and nodded, dropping his magazine. “Ye-- yeah, of course. Sorry.” He cleared his throat and straightened up. “Nerve wracking.”

 

“I’ve noticed,” Danny said softly. “But I’ve got ya.”

 

Dylan smiled and nodded, resting his head on Danny’s shoulder. “I’ve noticed,” he said. He reached over and grasped onto Danny’s hand, holding it in both of his. “And I thank you.”

 

Danny nodded and kissed the top of Dylan’s head, squeezing Dylan’s hand. “I love you.”

 

Dylan closed his eyes and settled against Danny. “I love you too.”

 

Sam reached over and squeezed Dean’s hand reassuringly, smiling over at him. “Last one,” he said softly, eyes glinting with tears.

 

Dean took a deep breath and nodded, squeezing Sam’s hand back. “Last one.” He looked over at the doctor. “At least until I get sick again, right doc?” He smiled up at Sam. “I love you.”

 

Sam smiled and leaned down, giving Dean a kiss. “I love you too.” He looked over at the doctor and cleared his throat. “Am I allowed to stay?” he asked.

 

The doctor nodded. “Of course. And Dean, no more talk about getting sick again. You’re going to be fine.”

 

“I bet they say to everybody,” Dean whispered, winking up at Sam, who just rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe this is it. I’m gonna have to start going back to work soon. Blah.”

 

“If you feel any ill effects, contact us,” the doctor said. “I think you’ll be up and around, good as new, in just a couple days.”

 

Dean smiled and closed his eyes, trying to picture himself good as new. “I haven’t been good as new in years, doc, trust me. Good as before will be good enough.”

 

Sam leaned down and kissed Dean’s forehead, moving his mouth to Dean’s ear. “I love you, Dean,” he whispered, before kissing Dean’s cheek, looking him in the eyes. 

 

“Love you too, Sammy,” Dean smiled, taking a deep breath.


	28. Chapter 27

Title: Look What Love Has Done - Volume 3 - Chapter 27

Pairing: Sam/Dean

Disclaimer: Not mine

Rating: NC-17 this chapter

Summary: On a Saturday when Sam and Dean plan to be child free, a friend calls in a favor and they end up with two.

Author's Note: Forget volume one, forget volume two; this is volume three 

 

 

fifteen years and eleven months old

 

Dean dribbled the ball and picked it up, glancing around as he pivoted on the driveway. “He shoots!” he yelled, arms in the air. “And he scores!”

 

Sam rolled his eyes and shifted on the car, peering at Dean over the top of his book. “Are you finished with the midlife crisis yet?” he asked once Dean had ran to get the ball again.

 

Dean glared at Sam before sticking his tongue out at him, shooting the ball again. “You’re bringing me down, Sam.”

 

Sam sighed and leaned back against the windshield, setting his book down. “I thought we were going to do something today, Dean. I hate basketball.”

 

“Which I always found so funny,” Dean said, dribbling the ball around, “considering you’re like, seven feet tall.” He threw the ball again, watching it roll on the grass. “And we are going to do something today. I just don’t know what yet. I’m stalling.” He cocked his head to the side, studying Sam for a moment. “You look like a hooker on my car.”

 

Sam sighed and sat up, elbows on his knees. “Fine, whatever. What are we doing?”

 

Dean shrugged, walking over to the car, standing in between Sam’s legs. “We can do it on the car.”

 

Sam just stared at Dean. “You amuse me,” he said flatly. “Normal life is boring, Dean,” he whined, leaning in to give Dean a kiss. “What’s Dylan doing today?”

 

“Danny,” Dean grinned, raising an eyebrow. He laughed loudly, kissing Sam again. “I have no idea. But I think we may be child free.”

 

Sam sighed dreamily and closed his eyes, tilting his head back. “Ah, child free. Remember those days?”

 

Dean smiled. “Yeah. They sucked, didn’t they?”

 

“Pretty much,” Sam agreed, hopping off the car. He reached down and grasped onto Dean’s hand, glancing back at Danny’s house. “Danny graduates this year,” he said softly, looking down at Dean.

 

Dean nodded slowly. “Yeah, I know.” He sighed, leaning up to give Sam a kiss. “But come on, child free! That means Todd’s kid too!” He smiled, clearing his throat. “What do you wanna do today?” he asked.

 

Sam smiled, shaking his head. “I…have no idea. Um, something fun. I need more light in my life.”

 

Dean’s tongue came out to quickly wet his lips and he grinned, stepping back from Sam. “Come on baby, light my fire,” he sang as he began to sway a little, reaching out to grasp onto Sam’s hand, “try to set the night on fire.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes and hopped off of the car, walking by Dean to reach down, grabbing onto Dean’s basketball. “You okay?” he asked, tossing the ball back to him.”

 

“Just fine, Sammy,” Dean replied, still dancing. “Little tired, is all.” He began dribbling the ball around, grinning at Sam.

 

“When’s your next appointment?” Sam asked, following Dean around, at least trying to humor him. 

 

“Not that kind tired,” Dean muttered, turning around, moving backwards against Sam, “and I thought that I already talked to you about this babying thing.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes and lunged out, trying to swipe the ball out of Dean’s hands. “I am not babying you,” he snapped, groaning softly when Dean kept the ball away from him again. “Jesus, Dean! Stop!”

 

Dean grinned and glanced back at Sam, picking up the ball. “Or what?”

 

Sam sighed and set his hands on his hips, smirking. “You have to shoot now, or it’s double-dribbling. And I think that I might be in your way.”

 

Dean sighed and looked up, realizing that Sam may have been right. “Yeah, well--” he thought quickly and started off down the driveway, laughing maniacally all the way.

 

“Dean!” Sam yelled, even though he could barely contain his laughter. “Dean, you’re an idiot! That’s all traveling!”

 

Dean turned around for a second to chuck the ball back up towards the house before continuing on down the sidewalk.

 

Sam ducked the ball and ran after Dean, laughing loudly when he realized Dean had tried to double back, running over the neighbor’s lawn. “Dean, stop!” he whined, trying to cut Dean off on the grass. “I’m old.” He reached out, managing to grasp on Dean’s arm before he made it through the small garden, yanking Dean towards him. 

 

Dean doubled over, gasping loudly, hands clutching at his stomach. “Jesus,” he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut.

 

“Dean?” Sam asked, letting go of his arm. “Oh my god, Dean, are you okay?” He dropped down onto the grass, reaching out for him. “Dean. Talk to me.”

 

Dean lifted his head, a pained look on his face before he laughed again, straightening up and running off, jumping the McCarthy’s garden and landing beside their own driveway, raising his arms in victory. He looked back at Sam, who was still kneeling on the grass, watching Dean. “What?” he asked.

 

Sam rolled his eyes and pushed himself back up, stepping over the small garden, walking back to the driveway.

 

“What?” Dean asked again, looking up at Sam, watching him walk by.

 

Sam just sighed sadly, looking back at Dean. He shook his head before he reached down, grabbing the basketball, shooting it one last time. “I win,” he said, smiling at Dean.

 

Dean groaned and shook his head, wrapping his arm around Sam’s shoulders. He leaned up, kissing Sam’s cheek, smiling at him. “Yeah yeah, okay. You win. But I don’t think the McCarthy’s are going to like us anymore.”

 

“And whose fault is that, Dean?” Sam asked, stepping inside the house, kicking off his sneakers.

 

“I don’t think I like what you’re implying,” Dean smiled, following after Sam, wrapping his arms around Sam’s waist, kissing his back. “Love you.”

 

“Love you too,” Sam said, still trying to walk normally with Dean practically hanging off his back. “What do you wanna do now?”

 

Dean reached up, playing with the hair at the nape of Sam’s neck, shrugging. “I don’t know. Movies, sex…sex. I’m really open to suggestions.”

 

Sam smiled and reached down, trying to unwrap Dean’s arms from himself. “Dean, I don’t--”

 

“Shh,” Dean interrupted, moving one hand up to cover Sam’s mouth. “Just…shh, okay? Come on. I love you.”

 

“How many times do you think that we’ve said it?” Sam asked, turning around. “In our entire life. How many times do you think you’ve said that to me?” He pushed Dean’s arms off of him, waiting.

 

Dean looked up, trying to do the math in his head. “Uh…what? How the hell am I supposed to know? You’ve been around for…well, I’ve been saying love you’s for forty years.”

 

Sam smiled. “Even when I was in Mom’s stomach?” he asked quietly, his own hands drifting to his abdomen, glancing down.

 

“I don’t think you were in her stomach, Sam,” Dean whispered, as if it was a big secret, reaching up to pat Sam’s shoulder. “Just saying.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I know that Dean. I just…you want me to say uterus?” he asked, smiling when Dean shuddered. “So for forty years, let’s say once a day. That’s a lot.”

 

“It’s always been true,” Dean said, leaning up to give Sam a kiss. He smiled and leaned into Sam, reaching up to gently cup Sam’s cheek, his other hand grasping onto the collar of Sam’s sweater. He moaned softly when Sam’s lips finally began moving against his, tongue slipping out. 

 

Sam swallowed hard and moved his hands down over Dean’s back, pulling him in closer when his hands moved to Dean’s hips. He groaned when Dean quickly dug his fingers into his hair, pulling their lips apart, Sam’s head going to the side.

 

Dean kissed and nipped at Sam’s long neck, tonguing at the skin as he moved his mouth up. “Bedroom,” he breathed, dropping his mouth back down. 

 

Sam nodded eagerly and his hands moved downwards to grip at Dean’s ass. “De-- Dean,” he stuttered, Dean’s mouth lifting off his skin. “God, Dean,” he murmured as they moved into the bedroom, the door slamming behind them. 

 

Dean grabbed at the hem of Sam’s sweater, waiting for Sam to lift his arms. He pulled the shirt over Sam’s head, smirking up at Sam and tongue wetting his lips as he dropped down onto his knees. He kept his eyes on Sam’s as he pushed at Sam, shoving him against the door.

 

Sam whimpered softly, watching Dean undo his jeans, shoving them down his thighs. “Dean,” he whispered, reaching out to run his fingers through Dean’s hair, holding him close. “Are you hard?” he asked, digging into Dean’s head, breath hitching when Dean slowly began pulling his boxers down and he nodded. 

 

“Always for you,” Dean murmured, reaching up to grasp onto Sam’s dick, twisting his wrist a couple times, before he slowly began to jerk Sam off. He leaned forward, mouthing the skin of Sam’s hip, resting his cheek against the bone, watching his hand work.

 

Sam groaned and tightened his grip in Dean’s hair, trying to force him closer to his dick, needing something more than Dean’s hand. “Please, Dean,” he begged softly, trying not to cry out in frustration. “I need you, please.”

 

Dean wet his mouth and pulled back, looking up at Sam, making sure he met his eyes before finally wrapping his mouth around the head of Sam’s dick, tongue curling.

 

“Yes,” Sam hissed, knees instantly buckling. “God, Dean.” His eyes squeezed shut and he bit his lip, hips gently working into Dean’s mouth.

 

Dean’s eyes fluttered and he kept his hand working on the base, tongue lapping at the head. “God,” he breathed, pulling off for a moment, “you taste so good.” He looked up at Sam, hands moving over Sam’s hips and up his chest. “So good,” he repeated, dragging his fingers over Sam’s stomach.

 

Sam rolled his eyes impatiently and thrust his hips, crying out in frustration. “Dean! Come on. Please.”

 

Dean smirked and kept his hand on Sam as he slowly stood up, licking his lips. “Come on, what?” he teased, working his hand.

 

Sam sighed in pleasure, head lolling to the side. “Oh god,” he muttered, eyes slits as he watched Dean. “Love you.” He reached out, wrapping his arms around Dean, hands trembling, pressed to Dean’s back. He gasped softly, hips working into Dean’s hand. 

 

Dean shifted the angle of his wrist and buried his face in Sam’s neck, resting against him. “That’s it, Sammy,” he murmured, “that’s it. God, feeling you like this,” he lifted his head, kissing Sam’s cheek, mouth moving along the skin, “beneath me, shaking. Trembling. But you’re not that close yet.” He shook his head gently, making a small noise. “Right before you come, your eyes flinch and you make this real tiny noise.” He licked a line up Sam’s neck. 

 

Sam groaned, long and low in his throat, spreading his legs, toes curling into the carpet.

 

“Then you scream my name,” Dean grinned, hand working faster, squeezing Sam. He shifted closer, mouth beside Sam’s ear, breath warm and quick. “Oh, there it is, the eye flinch.” He leaned up, kissing Sam’s temple. “Can you feel it coming?” he whispered. “In your spine? Where do you feel it, Sam? I wanna know.”

 

Sam cried out loudly, fingertips digging into Dean’s back, eyes still closed. “I-- it’s-- in my hips and--” his breath hitched, “and just…everywhere, Dean.” His hips jerked into Dean’s hand and just like Dean predicted, there was a quiet noise just before Sam came, warm and thick and over Dean’s hand. He froze for a moment before collapsing back against the door, breathing heavily, hips still jerking weakly.

 

Dean grinned and slowly peeled his fingers off of Sam, licking his hand before holding it up to Sam, who just looked at him in disbelief. “Please?” Dean asked softly, licking his lips.

 

Sam sighed and opened his mouth, licking across Dean’s hand, swallowing automatically. “Dean?” he asked.

 

“Yeah?” Dean asked, slowly walking backwards towards the bed. He dropped down and pushed himself up by the pillows, reaching down to undo his jeans.

 

Sam swallowed again and began walking towards the bed, crawling up the mattress between Dean’s legs, biting his lip. “Are you gonna fuck me?” he asked, pulling at Dean’s t-shirt, straddling Dean’s hips.

 

Dean nodded, leaning up to kiss Sam. “God yes,” he breathed, letting Sam pull his shirt off. He moved his hands to Sam’s hips, thumbs rubbing circles. “You gonna ride me like this?” he asked.

 

Sam smiled and nodded, leaning down to kiss Dean, slipping his tongue inside Dean’s tongue, working down against his hips. “God yes,” he smirked, kissing Dean again.

 

Dean licked his lips once Sam pulled back and reached over, knocking over their alarm clock before managing to pull open the drawer, reaching inside to grab their lube. “You gonna get off me and let me take off my jeans?”

 

Sam bit his lip and smiled, shaking his head as he took the lube from him. He moved backwards just a few inches, undoing Dean’s jeans, reaching his hand in to pull Dean out through the slit in his boxers. 

 

“God,” Dean muttered, reaching down to wrap his fingers around his dick, rubbing himself as he watched Sam push himself up on his knees, hand going behind him, fingers slicked with lube. “Not even gonna let me get naked?”

 

“You can,” Sam’s breath hitched and he swallowed hard, “take off your shirt if you wanna.” He whined softly, head falling back. He pressed another finger in, biting down on his lip. 

 

Dean grinned and sat up just enough to pull off his shirt, dropping it down onto the bed. 

 

“Are you okay like this?” Sam asked breathlessly, reaching over to grab the lube. 

 

“You should see the view,” Dean whispered in awe, running his fingers up Sam’s legs. 

 

Sam smiled and jerked Dean a couple of times, slicking him with lube, holding him up as he moved over Dean’s thighs, positioning himself. He leaned forward as he began pressing his hips down and Dean sat up, cupping Sam’s neck, pulling him in for a kiss. Sam broke away almost instantly, breathing heavily as he worked his way down onto Dean’s dick, fingers digging into Dean’s biceps. He dropped his head onto Dean’s shoulder, burying his face in his neck. “God, big,” he groaned, nipping at the skin.

 

Dean kept one hand on Sam’s neck, the other one running up and down Sam’s back, holding him close. “Tight,” he smiled, thrusting up into him, the teeth of his jeans zipper pressing into Sam’s skin. “Fuck Sam,” he began breathing heavier, “ain’t I fucked you enough yet? Like a vice.”

 

Sam shifted on Dean, breathing deeply before pressing his hands to Dean’s chest, pushing him back onto the bed.

 

“You gonna be able to handle this, little brother?” Dean asked, folding his hands behind his head. 

 

Sam pressed a finger to Dean’s lips, shushing him. “Just wait and see, old man.”

 

* * * *

 

Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat, reaching over to grab a handful of popcorn from the bucket on Dean’s lap.

 

“Should’ve cut a hole in this thing,” Dean smiled, glancing at Sam then down at the bucket.

 

Sam smiled and began eating, eyes on the movie screen. “Wouldn’t the salt sting a little?”

 

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, “but damn it would be worth it!” He laughed and raised an eyebrow at the girl in front of them who glanced back. “Yes?”

 

“Dean,” Sam snapped, leaning forward a little, “be nice.” He settled back into his seat, drawing a sharp breath when there was a slight ache between his legs. “Jesus,” he muttered.

 

“Feel me for days,” Dean said quietly, glancing over at Sam. “How’s that sound to you?”

 

“Well I don’t know how it sounds,” Sam began, “but I know how it feels. And it feels like I might need an aspirin later on.” He reached over and picked up his soda, taking a quick drink. 

 

“So what’s this movie about again?” Dean asked, shoving some popcorn into his mouth. He cocked his head to the side when the girl looked back at him again. “Do you know?” he asked, leaning forward to get closer to her. 

 

She sighed in exasperation and turned back around, glancing over at her boyfriend.

 

“Guess not,” Dean shrugged, sitting back. He reached down and grabbed his box of Smarties, ripping open the top. He poured a few into his hand and shoved a couple into his mouth, smiling over at Sam, holding the box out to him. 

 

Sam waved his hand and shook his head. “I’m good.” He looked back to the movie, nodding slowly to himself. He took another drink, sighing once he swallowed it down. “What don’t you understand, Dean?” he asked, glancing over at him.

 

Dean shrugged, eating a couple more Smarties. “I’m not too sure, actually,” he admitted. “Something about like…who that guy is, and who that guy is. There’s too many characters in this movie. And it’s lame.”

 

“Could you possibly be any louder?” the girl in front of them snapped, turning around in her seat.

 

Dean stared at her for a moment, before nodding eagerly. “Oh yeah, definitely. For sure. Wanna hear?”

 

“I’d like to hear you shut up, actually,” she smirked.

 

Dean leaned forward in his seat again, meeting her eyes. “Then maybe you should leave,” he said, smirking back before straightening up in his seat, “because I don’t really see that happening anytime soon. Kay?” He rolled his eyes and looked back up towards the screen.

 

“Dean, please,” Sam said, “be good. Okay?”

 

Dean sighed and nodded. “Yeah fine. Whatever.” He reached out for his drink, laughing when Sam’s cell phone went off. “It’s his, not mine,” he said, tapping the girl on the shoulder. “Blame him.”

 

Sam quickly glanced at the caller ID and sighed, answering the call. “Hello?” he asked quietly, standing up, walking down the aisle. 

 

Dean watched Sam walk up towards the doors and push them open, stepping out into the lobby. He tried to figure out who would be calling, deciding that it was probably just Dylan calling to check up. He grabbed a small handful of popcorn and began chewing thoughtfully, trying to pay attention to the movie. His toes wiggled in his sneakers and he reached down, trying to scratch his foot. He looked back up when he heard the doors to the theatre, seeing Sam walk in. “What’s going on?” he asked when Sam was sitting back down.

 

“That was Michael,” Sam said softly. “He needs us to watch the kids.”

 

“Which ones?” Dean asked, scratching at his foot again.

 

“Albany and Lorelai,” Sam replied. “He’s gotta take Cillian somewhere and…surprise surprise, Paula’s too busy to watch them.”

 

Dean sighed and dropped his head forward, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. “How long?”

 

“Maybe for the night,” Sam answered. “But we’ve gotta leave now if we’re going to do it.”

 

“Child free,” Dean whined, looking up at Sam, pouting. “I wasn’t finished sexing you up yet.”

 

Sam smiled and reached over, rubbing Dean’s leg reassuringly. “Don’t worry Dean, I don’t think my ass could take it again. Trust me, you’re finished.” He looked at Dean expectantly, before standing up.

 

“I’m taking my popcorn,” Dean muttered, standing up, following after Sam.

 

* * * *

 

“Sam!” Lorelai yelled, running into the house.

 

“Is she wearing a tiara?” Dean murmured, glancing over at Sam.

 

Sam nodded as he leaned down, lifting Lorelai up into his arms. “Well, Lori, don’t you look you look pretty today.”

 

“I’m a princess,” Lorelai declared proudly, wrapping an arm around Sam’s neck. “Do you like my crown?”

 

“It’s gorgeous,” Sam said, stepping out of the way to let Albany walk by.

 

“Hey Alby,” Dean said, turning, following behind Albany.

 

“Hi,” Albany said quietly, looking up at Dean from his book. “How are you?”

 

Dean gave Albany a quick smile, nodding. “Just-- just fine. And you?”

 

Albany nodded slowly and went back to his book, carefully sitting down on the couch, flipping the page.

 

“What book are you reading?” Dean asked, sitting down on the armrest of the couch.

 

“A Life of Picasso,” Albany replied, holding the book up to Dean. “The Cubist Rebel, 1907-1916.”

 

“Is he your artist?” Dean asked, taking the book, examining it. “Your favourite?”

 

Albany shook his head. “Jackson Pollack.” He reached up, taking the book back, smiling up at Dean. “Do you like art?”

 

“Not like you do, Alby,” Dean said, gently ruffling Albany’s hair, pushing himself up.

 

“Thanks for doing this,” Michael said, smiling up at Sam. “I uh, silly me, I thought she might take them. And Cill’s gotta go to this math thing, and well…the art student and the princess don’t really fit in at those places.” He playfully stuck his tongue out at Lorelai. “Do ya, Lori?”

 

“Do you like pink?” Lorelai asked Sam, ignoring her father. “I think it’s my favourite. What’s your favorite?”

 

“Color?” Sam asked, glancing back at Dean. “Uh, I don’t know. Blue, maybe. Green. Pink’s a solid choice though too.”

 

“I think you two have got this under control,” Michael grinned. “Um, yeah, Albany’s just reading this weekend, I guess, Lori is playing dress up--”

 

“I’m not playing, Daddy,” Lorelai interrupted in exasperation. “I’m a princess.”

 

Michael nodded and kissed Lorelai’s cheek, reaching up to fix her tiara. “I know that, sweetie. But maybe Sam and Dean don’t. But I’ve gotta go now, okay?”

 

Lorelai nodded, blowing a kiss at Michael. “Okay, Daddy. Have fun with Cillian.”

 

“I’m sure I will,” Michael said. “Albany! Be good, okay? Watch your sister.”

 

“I’m reading,” Albany said, not even looking up. “But bye, Dad. Have fun with Cillian.”

 

Michael smiled and nodded at Sam and Dean, giving them a slight wave. “I’ll call later. I’m sure we’ll be back tonight, unless this thing goes on and on.”

 

“Not a problem,” Sam assured him. “We can handle it. Them.” He looked over at Dean. “Right, Dean?”

 

Dean nodded. “Yeah, sure. I mean…okay, Albany is nothing like Dylan was, and Lori’s a girl, so…I’m sure we can just wing it.”

 

“Alright, see ya,” Michael said, turning around, pushing open the door. “Have fun!” He stepped outside, skipping down the steps, walking down the driveway to the car.

 

“Sure thing,” Albany said flatly, lifting his head.

 

Dean sighed and looked at Sam, giving him a quick smile. “Okay, so…two kids, two different age groups, two genders. What do we do?”

 

Sam thought for a moment, shifting Lorelai in his arms. “Two adults.”

 

“I call Albany!” Dean said quickly, walking back into the living room.

 

“We can switch off later,” Sam said, turning around to watch Dean sit down on the couch beside Albany. “So, what do you wanna do, Lori?”

 

“Do you have any toys?” Lorelai asked, looking around the house. “Is Dylan around? What about the dog? Can I play with the dog?”

 

“Well, I think I have to walk him,” Sam said, starting off, looking around for King Chuck. “Do you wanna walk him with me?”

 

Lorelai nodded eagerly. “Chuck!” she called, grinning when the dog came bounding into the dining room. “He’s so pretty. Can I pet him? Does he bite?”

 

“Not a day in his life,” Sam smiled, leaning down to let Lorelai out of his arms. “I’ll go grab the leash, okay?”

 

Lorelai nodded slowly, sitting down on the floor beside the dog, smiling when he lied down in front of her. She began petting his head, scratching at his ears. “They should do your nails,” she said softly, looking at Chuck’s paws. “You’re a nice doggie. Cillian has a bird. Its name is Einstein.” She looked up when Sam walked back in, the leash in hand. “And Albany has a gerbil.”

 

“What’s his gerbil named?” Sam asked, crouching down to hook the leash onto King Chuck’s collar. 

 

“Jackie,” Lorelai said, pushing herself up off the floor. “I don’t have any pets. Daddy says I’m too young.”

 

“Well, that’s his decision,” Sam said, leading the dog over to the door. He handed Lorelai the leash for a moment while he slipped his feet into his sneakers, leaning down to quickly tie them.

 

“Where’s Dylan?” Lorelai asked, handing the leash back off to Sam, stepping out into the porch, waiting for Sam.

 

“He’s at his friends house,” Sam smiled, opening the door for Lorelai, waiting for her to get down the stairs before walking outside himself. “He might be here later on, but I think he’s there for the night.”

 

“Is it his boyfriend’s house?” Lorelai giggled, reaching up to grasp onto Sam’s hand.

 

Sam looked across the street to Danny’s house and smiled, nodding. “Uh yeah, it is. How do you know about his boyfriend?”

 

“Cillian and Albany,” Lorelai replied, reaching up to straighten out her tiara. “I have a boyfriend too.”

 

“Wow,” Sam said nodding, glancing down at her. “What’s his name?”

 

“James,” Lorelai answered. “He’s in my class. He has black hair and brown eyes and he’s the same height as me.”

 

“Sounds like a nice boy,” Sam grinned. “Well, Dylan’s boyfriend is Danny, and he’s a grade ahead of him, and he has brown hair and brown eyes. And I think he might be a little taller.”

 

“He sounds nice too,” Lorelai nodded. She reached out, petting King Chuck’s back, smiling at him. “Maybe Daddy will get me a dog.”

 

“Well, if Cillian has a bird, and Albany has a gerbil,” Sam began, “your dad would probably want you to have something small too. Dylan had a bunny when he was two. Maybe you could get something like that.”

 

“I want something pretty,” Lorelai said. “Maybe if I ask really nicely, I can get a kitty.”

 

Sam’s eyes widened and he tried not to laugh. “I don’t think so, Lori, not with a bird in the house.”

 

Lorelai stopped walked and began pouting, eyes filling with tears. “Why not?” she asked, looking up at Sam.

 

Sam sighed and knelt down in front of her, smiling faintly. “Because sometimes kitties eat birds. You wouldn’t want something to eat Einstein, would you?”

 

Lorelai shook her head but tears began running down her cheeks. “I want something too though. What am I supposed to get then?”

 

Sam smiled and wrapped his arm around Lorelai, squeezing her gently. “I don’t know. What do you think about fish?”

 

“You can’t hold a fish,” Lorelai pointed out. “What wouldn’t eat a bird but was really cute?”

 

Sam stood up and thought for a moment, reaching back out for Lorelai’s hand. “A guinea pig. You should ask your dad for a guinea pig. Those are cute and soft and you can hold it and it won’t eat Einstein.”

 

Lorelai smiled up at Sam, eyes shining. “Okay.”

 

“Okay?” Sam asked. “Alright then. Come on, we gotta finish this walk.” He began leading Lorelai down the sidewalk, King Chuck sniffing at the concrete.

 

Dean shifted on the couch, fingers flexing, itching to grab onto the remote, but he didn’t want to disturb Albany. He cleared his throat gently and sighed. “Any good?” he asked, glancing towards him.

 

Albany shrugged. “I already read the first one. This one’s a bit more interesting.”

 

“What was the first one?” Dean asked.

 

“The Prodigy, 1881-1906,” Albany replied, finally looking up from his book. “After this one it’s The Triumphant Years, 1917-1932.”

 

“Are you gonna be an artist, Alby?” Dean asked. “When you’re older?”

 

Albany shook his head. “I’m actually not that great at my own art. I’m gonna be an art professor, at a university somewhere.”

 

“So you can teach everybody about Pollack and Picasso,” Dean said, smiling at Albany. “That’s great, Alby, that sounds awesome. I’ll have to sit in on one of your classes someday.”

 

Albany dropped his book and smiled bashfully at Dean. “Sounds good.”

 

* * * *

 

Lorelai pushed herself up in the booth, taking a drink of her milkshake. “Thank you for taking us out for supper,” she smiled, reaching out for a chicken nugget.

 

“No problem,” Dean smiled, grabbing onto his soda. “Is it okay, Albany?”

 

Albany looked up at Dean, nodding. “Yeah, it’s fine. Thanks.”

 

“Such polite kids,” Sam smiled, looking over at Dean. “Nothing like our own.”

 

Dean laughed. “So tell me Sam,” he began, looking back down at Lorelai, “where’s your castle?”

 

“Dean,” Sam said in irritation, “stop calling her that. Her name is Lorelai.”

 

“That’s nice,” Dean said, still looking at Lorelai. “There’s not a lot of castles in California, is there?”

 

Lorelai shook her head solemnly. “No, there isn’t. My castle is in Europe.”

 

Sam smiled down at Albany, who was watching his sister while drinking his soda. “Oh yeah? Where’s Europe?” he asked.

 

“It’s in…” Lorelai trailed off, thinking hard, “I don’t know where it is. What’s it in?”

 

“It’s in Europe,” Albany said, looking at Lorelai in disbelief. “It’s a continent.”

 

“What’s a continent?” Lorelai asked, looking up at Dean.

 

“It’s like…it’s land,” Dean said, glancing over at Sam helplessly, “and uh…well, California is a state in the country of the United States. The US is a country in the continent of North America. Europe is a continent on the other side of the Atlantic ocean.”

 

“Oh,” Lorelai said, reaching out for another chicken nugget. “Well, that’s where my castle is.”

 

Dean and Sam both smiled.

 

* * * *

 

“He’s been reading a book all day,” Dean said softly. “What about Lorelai?”

 

Sam glanced over Dean’s shoulder into the living room. “I don’t know. She likes pretty things and pink. And wants a kitty. She has a boyfriend named James.”

 

“Nice,” Dean said, nodding slowly. “Okay, so girly stuff, girly stuff…dolls. Dolls. Girls like dolls.”

 

“We don’t have any dolls,” Sam pointed out. “Dylan never wanted any.”

 

“He has to have something down there,” Dean muttered, smiling when Lorelai walked over to them. “Yeah Sam, we’re just gonna go down to Dylan’s room, okay? See if he has anything of interest in his old toy chest.”

 

Lorelai grinned and reached up to Dean, who lifted her up into his arms. “Dean?” she asked.

 

“Yeah?” Dean asked, walking through the living room and down the hallway to Dylan’s room.

 

“My daddy told me that you were sick once,” Lorelai said, looking around Dylan’s room in awe. “This is a nice room.”

 

Dean smiled, leaning down to let Lorelai climb out of his arms and onto Dylan’s unmade bed. “It is. And yes, I was sick, half a year ago.” He sat down on the floor and opened Dylan’s toy chest, pulling out anything that looked slightly interesting.

 

“With what?” Lorelai asked, rolling around on Dylan’s bed.

 

“It’s called cancer,” Dean said, glancing back at her. “But I’m okay now.”

 

“That’s good,” Lorelai said, pushing herself up onto her knees, looking at the posters and pictures on the wall. “Who’s that?” she asked, climbing off of the bed. She walked over to Dylan’s dresser and picked up the picture.

 

“That’s Dylan with Danny,” Dean said, rubbing at his eyes. 

 

“He has nice hair,” Lorelai said, looking over at Dean. “Where does he live?”

 

“Across the street,” Dean replied.

 

“And that’s where Dylan is?” Lorelai asked. “But he hasn’t been here all day. If I was right across the street from my house, I would visit.”

 

“I think they’re actually out for the day,” Dean explained. “Maybe visiting Danny’s grandparents. But that’s probably where he’ll be tonight, across the street.”

 

“Are they in love?” Lorelai asked, putting the picture back.

 

Dean smiled, looking at all of the toys around him. “Yeah, they are.”

 

“Are they gonna get married?” Lorelai asked, looking around at the other things in Dylan’s room.

 

“I’m not sure,” Dean said, putting a few toys away, “they’re a little young for that right now. Maybe when they’re older. I’m not sure.”

 

Lorelai cocked her head to the side, reaching up to grab something off of Dylan’s desk. “Are you and Sam married?” she asked, opening the small box.

 

“No,” Dean replied, “we’re not, actually.”

 

“Oh,” Lorelai said, pulling out one of the small foil squares, trying to read the small words. “My parents were, but now they’re not. What’s that called again?”

 

“Divorce,” Dean said softly, closing Dylan’s toy chest. “If you want, I found a couple sort of interesting looking toys in here.”

 

“What’s this say?” Lorelai asked, walking around to the other side of the bed, handing the foil package over to Dean.

 

Dean tried not to laugh as he realized what Lorelai had handed him, clearing his throat. “It says uh, it says Trojan.” He read the next few words on the package. “Magnum? Twister? Jesus!” He looked back over at Lorelai. “Where’d you get this, sweetie?”

 

“On the desk,” Lorelai said, glancing over.

 

Dean pushed himself up and walked over to Dylan’s desk, picking up the box. “Yep. Trojan Magnum. Large size condoms. Twister.” He put the condom back into the box and closed the box, looking around. “Hey, Lori, you wanna play a game?” He smiled when Lorelai nodded eagerly. “Okay, I want you to look around Dylan’s room, and see if you can find anymore boxes like these. You see this word, Trojan? Try and find that word. Okay?”

 

“What should I do with the ones I find?” Lorelai asked.

 

“Put ‘em on the bed,” Dean replied. “Just…we’ll clean up afterwards, okay? Anything like this, Lori.”

 

“Okay,” Lorelai smiled, walking over to Dylan’s dresser, pulling out the bottom drawer.

 

“Awesome,” Dean muttered, throwing the box onto the bed. “I’m gonna go get something to drink, okay?”

 

Lorelai nodded, lifting up Dylan’s clothes.

 

Dean grinned as he walked down the hallway, looking over at Sam and Albany.

 

“What are you two up to?” Sam asked, looking up from Albany’s book.

 

“Nothing,” Dean said, shaking his head, “just a little…sort of a scavenger hunt, I guess you’d say. With some of Dylan’s things.” He walked into the kitchen, grabbing a juice box for Lorelai and a can of soda for him out of the refrigerator, walking back down towards the room. “Okay Lorelai, what you got?”

 

“These,” Lorelai said, handing a small string of condoms up to Dean.

 

Dean handed Lorelai her drink and sat down on the bed, reading the package. “Trojan Magnum Warm Sensations. Hmm.” He dropped it down by the other box. “Anything else?”

 

Lorelai shook her head. “Oh, I found just this one,” she said, handing Dean a yellow package. “But it’s the only one.”

 

Dean grinned. “Intense Ribbed. Geez, who knew, huh?” He dropped down onto the bed by the rest, popping the top of his can of soda. “So how do you like school, Lorelai?”

 

“It’s okay,” Lorelai said, pushing the drawer closed. “I have a boyfriend.”

 

“Sam was telling me,” Dean nodded. “James, is it?”

 

Lorelai nodded eagerly. “He’s in my class. We sit together at lunch.”

 

“That sounds nice,” Dean said quietly, reaching out to fix Lorelai’s tiara.

 

“What book are you reading?” Albany asked, looking up from his own.

 

"Jacob’s Room,” Sam replied, “by Virginia Woolf.”

 

“Do you read a lot?” Albany asked, bringing his legs up onto the couch. 

 

Sam nodded. “Yeah, I’d say so. I’ve always loved to, ever since I was your age.”

 

“You got a scholarship to Stanford, right?” Albany asked. “‘Cause that’s awesome. I’d love to do that.”

 

Sam smiled. “So do you only read about art, or do you just like…reading?”

 

“I like to read a lot,” Albany nodded. “But it’s easy to find books about art more interesting, since it’s what I like. Can I see your books?”

 

Sam grinned, pushing himself up. “Sure. Of course. They’re in my room.” He smiled and led Albany into the master bedroom, flicking on the lights. “They’re all on those shelves.”

 

“Wow,” Albany said quietly, walking over to the bookcase. “I thought that Cillian had a lot of books. Have you read all of them?”

 

“I spent like, nine years as a housewife, Albany,” Sam smiled, “after Dylan started school I sort of had a lot of time on my hands.”

 

“Can I,” Albany reached out to the bookcase, “like, touch them?” he asked.

 

“Yeah, of course,” Sam said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “You can look at them. Or borrow them, if you want.”

 

“Which one would you recommend?” Albany asked, dropping to his knees in front of the case. “For me.”

 

“Hmm.” Sam thought for a moment, watching Albany study the books in amazement. “Yeah, I think I got one. Look for On The Road, Kerouac.”

 

Albany ran his fingers over the spines of the books, before pulled it off the shelf, flipping through the pages. “What’s it about?”

 

“It is the great American novel, Alby,” Sam smiled. “I think the Times said it was the ‘most beautifully executed’ of the generation. You have to read it.”

 

“Anything else?” Albany asked, setting the book down on the floor.

 

Sam thought again, sliding off the bed and onto the floor beside Albany, scanning the books. “Here,” he said, pulling out another book, “Into the Wild.”

 

“What’s this one about?” Albany asked, taking the book from Sam, reading the words on the cover. “In April 1992 a young man from a well-to-do family hitchhiked to Alaska and walked alone into the wilderness north of Mount McKinley. His name was Christopher Johnson McCandless. He had given twenty-five thousand in savings to charity, abandoned his car and most of his possessions, burned all the cash in his wallet, and invented a new life for himself.”

 

“Four months later, his decomposed body was found by a moose hunter,” Sam finished quietly.

 

“Wow,” Albany said, flipping through the pages. “That sounds good.”

 

Sam smiled faintly. “It sounds true.”

 

Albany looked up at Sam, eyes wide. “It was true? This is a biography?”

 

Sam nodded, reaching over to grab On the Road. “Some people think that maybe Christopher McCandless read this book a little too much. He starved to death. People wonder how, since he was only miles away from the highway and there was a shelter nearby.”

 

Albany studied the book, reaching up to wipe at his eyes. “That’s sad,” he said softly, looking up at Sam. 

 

Sam nodded slowly. “Yeah, it is. You don’t have to uh…I mean, yeah, it’s sad, you don’t have to read it.”

 

“Maybe he wanted to die,” Albany said, still looking at Sam. “Maybe he wanted to prove something to somebody.”

 

“Maybe,” Sam agreed quietly, giving Albany a quick smile. 

 

“So what are these things?” Lorelai asked, reading the sky blue package of the last condom found in Dylan’s room. “Balloons?”

 

Dean grinned. “Sort of, I guess. Same idea. These aren’t to play-- well, they are, but they aren’t for kids.”

 

“Mint,” Lorelai read, handing the package over to Dean. “Does it taste like peppermint?”

 

“Maybe,” Dean said, examining the package. “Ooh, looks like. Smells like it too.” He dropped the package down by the rest and wrapped his arms around Lorelai, lifting her up. “Come on, let’s go out and find Sam and Albany.”

 

* * * *

 

“Can I use the bathroom?” Cillian asked, stepping into the house.

 

Sam yawned loudly and leaned against the counter, nodding. “Yeah, sure. Of course.”

 

Cillian opened the bathroom door and stepped inside, closing it behind him.

 

“How’d he do?” Sam asked, yawning again. “Jesus, sorry.”

 

“We’re a little later than I expected,” Michael said softly, shifting a sleeping Lorelai in his arms. “Sorry.”

 

Dean shook his head. “No, it was…I sort of miss having kids around and not just teenagers. They’re sweet. And Lorelai is…a girl. I’m not used to being around little girls.”

 

“Thank you for the books, Sam,” Albany said tiredly, leaning against Michael.

 

“Not a problem,” Sam assured him. “I hope you like them.”

 

The toilet flushed and the water ran before Cillian opened the bathroom door, stepping back out into the kitchen. “You ready to go, Cill?” Michael asked, reaching out for his son.

 

Cillian yawned softly and nodded, pushing up his glasses. “Yeah, I am.”

 

“Alright then,” Michael smiled, looking back over at Sam and Dean. “Thanks guys, for watching them.”

 

Dean smiled and Sam nodded. “It was our pleasure completely,” Dean said. “Have a good night. Drive careful. Be good for your dad.”

 

“I always am,” Albany said, turning to push open the door to the porch. “Bye guys. Love you.”

 

Sam closed his eyes for a moment, smiling to himself. “Love you too,” he said, trying not to sniffle. “You too, Cill. And Lori, if she was awake.”

 

“Love y’all basically,” Dean grinned. “Especially you, Mike,” he said, giving him a wink.

 

Michael laughed and let Cillian and Albany walk out of the house. “Yeah alright, I’ll talk to you guys later. Thanks again.” He stepped out into the porch, closing the door behind him.

 

Sam sighed once they were gone and glanced over at Dean, who was still grinning. “I really liked today. I’m glad that we weren’t child free.”

 

Dean reached over and grasped onto Sam’s hand, squeezing it. “Yeah,” he said eventually, “me too.” He dropped his hand from Sam’s and turned, walking into the master bedroom.

 

Sam nodded to himself, before following after Dean.

 

* * * *

 

“What are you two doing today?” Sam asked, lifting his head as Dylan and Danny walked by him.

 

Dylan glanced back at Danny, shrugging. “I’m not sure.”

 

“Well, what’d you do yesterday?” Dean asked, watching Dylan and Danny walk through the living room. 

 

“Nothing much,” Danny said, reaching out to grasp onto Dylan’s hand.

 

Sam sighed and shook his head, rubbing at his eyes. “Sometimes I just love having a teenage son.”

 

“Really?” Dean asked. “‘Cause I sort of wish we had the kids from yesterday back.” His face lit up when he remembered what they had found in Dylan’s room and he sat back in his seat, waiting for the reaction.

 

“What?” Sam asked softly, noticing Dean’s expression. “Does that look have to do with what you and Lorelai were doing down there yesterday?”

 

“Just wait for it,” Dean said. 

 

“Oh my god,” Dylan muttered, picking up the condoms. “Jesus.” He glanced back at Danny, who was trying not to laugh. “Dad!” he yelled, dropping the condoms back onto the bed.

 

Dean laughed loudly, clapping his hands a couple of times. 

 

“What is it?” Sam asked, leaning to the side in his seat.

 

Dean continued laughing, shaking his head. “Sam, you’re not even going to believe it unless you see it. Our kid,” he kept laughing, “has the most condoms I’ve ever seen in one place. And they’re all different kinds; it’s hilarious.”

 

“It’s sort of funny,” Danny said, picking up the Intense Ribbed and the Mint Tingle, shoving them in his jacket pocket. “Come on, lets go back to my place.” They walked back down the hallway, Dylan blushing as soon as he heard his father’s laughter. “Very mature, Dad,” he snapped, leading Danny past his parents.

 

Sam just looked at Dylan and Danny, smiling with his mouth wide open. “Well, you guys, that’s…interesting.”

 

Dean finally managed to stop laughing, reaching out to grasp onto Dylan’s arm, making him stop. “Mint Tingle, huh?” he asked, before he began to laugh again.

 

Dylan rolled his eyes and yanked his arm away from Dean, looking over at Danny, who had started to laugh a little. “Oh great, Danny, not you too.” He groaned softly and walked over to the door, pushing it open. “Stay out of my room!” he yelled, stepping out into the porch.

 

Dean rolled his eyes. “Stay out of the drugstore! Seriously. You two can’t be doing it that much.” He smiled over at Danny. “So uh…Magnum, huh?” he asked.

 

Danny’s eyes widened and he instantly began to blush. He opened his mouth to speak, but just turned around, hurrying after Dylan.

 

Sam looked back at Dean, mouth still hanging open. “Magnum?” he asked in disbelief, before he too began laughing.


	29. Chapter 28

Title: Look What Love Has Done - Volume 3 - Chapter 28

Pairing: Sam/Dean, OMC/OMC

Disclaimer: Not mine

Rating: NC-17 this chapter

Summary: It's near the end of the school year, and Dylan finds out what Danny plans to do in September. And he's not happy.

Author's Note: Forget volume one, forget volume two; this is volume three 

 

sixteen years, two months and three days old

 

“Are we doing anything tomorrow night?” Danny asked, pulling onto their street. “‘Cause I don’t think I work. Do you?” He slowed down in front of Dylan’s house, turning the keys in the ignition. 

 

Dylan yawned softly, stretching in his seat. “I think so, yeah. You and your dad will have to go see a movie and visit me.”

 

Danny smiled, reaching out to trail his fingers over the patch of Dylan’s stomach exposed when he was stretching. “Maybe I will.”

 

Dylan grinned and reached down, grasping onto Danny’s hand. “I’ll slip a little something extra in with your popcorn.” He grabbed onto Danny’s jacket, pulling him across the seat.

 

“Mm, sounds good,” Danny murmured, tilting his head, kissing Dylan. He moved his hand out of Dylan’s grip and brought it up, cupping Dylan’s cheeks, holding him close. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” he breathed, tongue coming out to lick his lips. He moaned when Dylan pulled him back into the kiss.

 

“What did you wanna ask me?” Dylan asked, finally pulling apart. He licked his lips, swallowing. 

 

“Uh…” Danny blinked a couple of times, trying to get his thoughts back. “Oh! Um…I know that I’ve probably put it off, but I just sort of assumed that you would, so--”

 

“That I would what?” Dylan asked, shifting under Danny.

 

“Go to prom with me?” Danny finished hopefully. “I mean, I know it’s next week and you probably don’t have a tux or anything, but I’d--”

 

“Of course I’ll go,” Dylan smiled. “I was…I mean, I assumed I was going but I was sort of waiting for you to ask.” 

 

“When are you going to finish your shift?” Sam asked, lifting his head off Dean’s lap.

 

Dean reached out for his coffee, taking a drink. “When Danny gets his frigging car away from the end of my driveway.”

 

Sam frowned and pushed himself up, looking out the window. “What are they doing?” he asked, standing up.

 

“Making out,” Dean said, taking another drink. “I gotta finish my coffee anyway. If he hasn’t moved by then, I’ll just…go bother ‘em till he moves.” He reached out for Sam. “Come sit back down.”

 

Sam shifted by the window, sighing. “Yeah, okay.” He walked back over to the couch and sat down, curling up by Dean. “Do you think they’ve talked about the prom issue yet?” he asked, sticking his finger into Dean’s drink.

 

“I’m sure Danny’ll get his head in the game soon,” Dean replied, wrapping his arm around Sam’s shoulder. “And keep your digits out of my beverage, please.”

 

Sam grinned and pulled his finger out of Dean’s mug, wrapping his lips around it, licking off the coffee. “You really should get back to work sometime. That way you can come home earlier.”

 

Dean smiled and rolled his eyes, leaning forward to set his coffee mug on the table. “Okay, okay, I get it. You want me gone.” He pushed himself up and reached back for Sam’s hand, leading him into the kitchen. “You wanna drive me or you want me to take the car?” he asked, slipping his feet into his boots. 

 

“Whatever you want,” Sam smiled, squeezing Dean’s hand in his. “I’m fine without the car for another few hours.”

 

“Okay,” Dean said, leaning up to give Sam a kiss, “I love you.”

 

Sam smiled and let his hand slip from Dean’s, crossing his arms. “Love you too.” He groaned softly and stretched, giving Dean another smile. “Make sure Dylan comes in, please.”

 

Dean nodded and stepped outside, walking down the steps. “Hey, Dylan!” he yelled, walking down the driveway.

 

Dylan rolled his eyes, pushing Danny off of him. “Yeah, of course,” he muttered, reaching into the backseat for his backpack.

 

Dean grinned and knocked on the window, gesturing for Danny to roll it down. “How you doing in here boys?” he asked, leaning down.

 

“Fine,” Danny nodded, glancing over at Dylan. “Just talking.”

 

Dean raised an eyebrow and winked. “Oh yeah…talking, huh? Well Dyl, Sam wants you in the house. Danny, I need you out of the driveway.”

 

Dylan leaned over, pulling Danny into a quick kiss, smiling at him. “Call me later.”

 

Danny smiled and nodded, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “So uh, how’s your day been, Dean?”

 

“Mr Winchester,” Dean corrected, smiling down at him. He waved and stepped back from Danny’s car, walking over to his own.

 

“Right,” Danny breathed, dropping his head before turning the keys in the ignition.

 

“Hey,” Dylan said, dropping his backpack down onto the floor, kicking off his sneakers. “What’s going on?”

 

“Nothing much,” Sam replied, walking back into the living room, reading the newspaper as he sat back down on the couch. “How was your day?”

 

“Fine,” Dylan answered, picking his backpack back up, walking towards his bedroom. “Normal, I guess.” He gave Sam a quick smile before walking down the hallway, tossing his backpack just inside the door. “How was yours?”

 

“Fine, thank you,” Sam said. He spread the newspaper out on the couch, flipping the page. He sighed and pushed up his glasses, lifting his head to smile over at Dylan. “What’s going on?”

 

Dylan smiled and shook his head, shifting awkwardly on his feet. “I need a tux,” he said finally.

 

Sam grinned. “Danny asked you to prom? Finally?” He moved the newspaper out of the way, giving Dylan room to sit.

 

Dylan nodded eagerly and walked over to the couch, sitting down beside Sam. “I…he just asked me, in the car. That’s good, right?”

 

“It’s awesome,” Sam said, “of course. Okay, a tux. When’s prom again?”

 

“Next Saturday,” Dylan replied. He let out a deep breath and swallowed hard, looking out the living room window. “I have to dance with him, in public, next Saturday.” He slumped down in his seat.

 

Sam glanced down at his watch. “Well, that was short-lived.”

 

Dylan groaned and his head lolled around, batting his eyes up at Sam. “Mom, don’t make fun.” He brought his legs up onto the couch. “‘Cause it isn’t funny.”

 

“Is it,” Sam thought for a moment, “‘I don’t know how to dance with my boyfriend’ funny, or ‘yeah, I sleep with guys, but that doesn’t mean I want to dance in front of all of my football buddies with my boyfriend’ funny?”

 

Dylan dropped his eyes, picking at the button on his jeans. “I don’t know,” he mumbled. “Maybe both.” He looked over at Sam. “I’ve never even worn a tux.”

 

Sam sighed and took off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, okay, that’s not a big deal, Dylan. I think we’ve got bigger things to worry about than that.”

 

Dylan straightened up, frowning at Sam. “Uh…what do you mean?” he asked. “What’s wrong? Is Dad sick again, is he okay? Is--”

 

“He’s fine,” Sam interrupted. “He’s fine. Promise. I just meant um, you have finals coming up, right?” Sam smiled, hoping that Dylan would believe that’s what he had meant to say. “How many left?” he asked.

 

“Just a couple,” Dylan said, looking up at Sam. “So, can I get a tux sometime or is that not possible?”

 

“We’ll get you one this weekend,” Sam assured him, “and if we can’t find you one then you can just borrow your dad’s or something.” He smiled again, reaching over to pick his glasses up, putting them back on. “You work tonight?”

 

Dylan shook his head, standing up off the couch. “Tomorrow.”

 

“Right,” Sam nodded, picking up the paper. “Tomorrow. Anything good coming out? Maybe me and your dad wanna stop by and bother you,” he teased.

 

Dylan rolled his eyes and grinned, walking into the kitchen. 

 

“Mail call,” Todd said, whipping the envelope at Danny. “Daniel Ford.”

 

“Jesus,” Danny muttered, rubbing his arm where the envelope had hit. “Paper cuts, man.” He looked at the return address, rolling his eyes. “U-Dub,” he said, showing his father. “You open it?”

 

“What do you think they want?” Todd asked, taking a drink. “Didn’t you already…refuse?”

 

“Yeah,” Danny murmured, ripping open the envelope, “I thought I did.”

 

Todd smiled and looked away nonchalantly when Danny looked back up. “Well, read it. What’s it say?”

 

Danny sighed, scanning the page. “They still want me.”

 

“That’s good,” Todd said. “Right? Maybe it’s a sign that you should’ve said yes.”

 

“Dad, we can’t--” Danny stopped talking as he continued reading and a grin spread across his face. “Dad.”

 

“Yeah?” Todd asked, walking over to him. “What’s going on?”

 

“I got a scholarship,” Danny said softly, looking up at his father. “I…after I refused, they-- it’s for soccer? I never sent them any tapes of my--” He looked up at Todd, who was grinning. “You sent them tapes of me playing soccer?”

 

Todd shrugged. “You wanted to go to U-Dub. And I know I can’t afford it. So…yeah. I applied you for a scholarship. You already got accepted and--”

 

Danny jumped off the couch and wrapped his arms around Todd, pulling him in for a hug. “Thank you,” he said, pulling back. “Thank you.” He looked back down at the letter, shaking his head in disbelief. “I’m going to U-Dub. I’m gonna be a dentist, Dad.”

 

“Yeah, don’t say that last part too loud,” Todd smiled. “You’re going to U-Dub.”

 

Danny began bouncing up and down on his feet, trying not to squeal. “I’m going to Washington!” He hugged Todd again and began running around the living room. “I…I can’t even believe it. I can’t believe it.” He grinned and looked outside, remembering somebody else he had to tell. “I have to go tell Dylan.” He ran to the door and slipped his feet into his sneakers, one hanging half off. 

 

Todd laughed and followed after him, walking as Danny ran down the driveway and across the street.

 

“Dyl,” Sam said, glancing into the kitchen. “Dan’s here.”

 

Dylan frowned and opened up the door, hopping down the steps, walking down the driveway to Danny. “What’s up?” he asked, smiling when he noticed the grin on Danny’s face. “Hi, Todd!” he called, waving at him.

 

Todd waved, making his way across the street.

 

“What’s going on?” Dylan asked. “You okay?”

 

Danny nodded eagerly and wrapped his arms around Dylan, lifting him a couple of inches into the air. “I got a scholarship!” he yelled, letting go of Dylan. “I got a scholarship! I can go!”

 

Dylan grinned. “That’s-- that’s awesome.”

 

“It’s more than awesome!” Danny exclaimed. “It’s amazing! We couldn’t afford it but now I can.” He hugged Dylan again, jumping up and down. “I’m gonna be a dentist!”

 

Dylan laughed, stumbling as Danny kept jumping. “O-- okay, Danny, little tipsy he--” He let out a groan as they hit the lawn, Danny still practically shaking. 

 

Sam walked down the steps, going over to Todd, who was watching them. “What’s going on?” he asked, laughing as Danny began rolling around the grass.

 

“Danny got a scholarship to the University of Washington,” Todd said proudly.

 

“Wow, that’s amazing,” Sam said. “That really is. I thought-- he turned them down, didn’t he?”

 

Todd nodded. “I talked to the admissions officer,” he explained. “I applied him for a soccer scholarship. And he’s got it.”

 

“Washington?” Dylan said softly, brushing grass off his shirt. “I uh…what?”

 

“Washington,” Danny said, lifting his head. “Seattle. U-Dub. C’mon, I told you that I got accepted.”

 

“Yeah, but…” Dylan shook his head, “you turned them down.”

 

“Yeah, because I couldn’t afford it!” Danny said. “But now I can! Dad sent in my tapes and-- and I can go.”

 

Dylan shook his head again, pushing himself up off the lawn. “You said you were going to UCI.”

 

“Well, I was,” Danny began, “but I’ve always wanted to go to U-Dub. And now I can and now I will.” He pushed himself up, wiping grass off his pants. 

 

“So you leave in what, two months?” Dylan asked. 

 

“Move-in day’s on the twenty-third of August,” Todd said. “Orientation’s the day after.”

 

Dylan looked at Danny, shaking his head, before turning around, walking back up to the house.

 

“Dylan!” Danny called after him, ready to go after him but Sam just reached out, stopping him. 

 

“Give him a minute,” Sam said softly, letting go of Danny’s arm. “‘Kay?”

 

Danny sighed and looked over to Todd, who was watching him back. “He uh…” he shook his head, crumpling his letter. “Maybe I shouldn’t go,” he said quietly.

 

Todd sighed, glancing up at Sam. “Danny, don’t--”

 

“I’m just gonna go home,” Danny interrupted, walking by Sam and Todd. 

 

Sam swallowed and watched Danny walk slowly down the driveway and across the street. “Don’t let him not go, Todd. Dylan will get over it.”

 

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Todd said, smiling faintly. “Danny’s going. I’ve already started talking to a real estate agent. I’m going to move with him.”

 

Sam nodded and smiled, reaching out to pat Todd’s shoulder. “I should probably go see if he’s locked himself in the bathroom. I’ll talk to you later, neighbour.”

 

Todd nodded and began walking down the driveway, following after Danny as Sam began following after Dylan, walking into the house. “Dylan?” Sam called, closing the door.

 

Dylan closed his bedroom door and walked over to his bed, dropping down.

 

Sam sighed and rubbed at his eyes, sitting down on the couch. “Jesus,” he muttered, leaning back.

 

* * * *

 

“Well, what the hell’s he taking there?” Dean asked, shifting on his stomach. 

 

“Dentistry,” Sam said flatly, running his fingers up and down Dean’s back. 

 

Dean rolled his eyes. “He can’t do that at UCI?”

 

Sam sighed, looking up at Dean. “Why are you on Dylan’s side?”

 

“Uh, because he’s my son?” Dean said. “Of course I’m gonna be on his side. You think I’d be on the side of the neighbor’s kid? Pfft.”

 

“Not just the neighbor’s kid anymore,” Sam murmured. “I just…Danny was so excited. You should’ve seen him, Dean. Rolling around on the grass. I know that he loves Dylan but he obviously wants this too.”

 

“He should’ve told Dylan before,” Dean said. “Just springing this on the kid--”

 

“He didn’t know before,” Sam interrupted. “Dean, I-- I know it sounds stupid, but I know how Danny feels. I know it’s like to want something like and to have people around you hate it.”

 

Dean dropped his eyes, ashamed.

 

“I don’t regret it,” Sam continued, “but I would have. Danny-- if Danny wants to do this then it’s something that he should do. It’s his dream. It’s his life. Dylan’s just his boyfriend.”

 

“Dylan loves him,” Dean said softly. “He…you know that. Danny loves him too. What’s Dylan supposed to do? Are they gonna break up? Or is Dylan just supposed to sit around and wait for him?”

 

“He’s not supposed to do anything,” Sam sighed. “They’ll figure it out, Dean, before he leaves. More than two months to sort it all out.”

 

Dean shook his head. “Sixteen…two months goes by like that,” he snapped his fingers. “I know what it’s like to watch somebody leave, Sam,” he said softly. “Somebody that you love. I know how Dylan feels.”

 

“Danny wants a job,” Sam said, “a career. Dylan’s only sixteen. What if they don’t even last? What if Danny stays and they break up next year?”

 

Dean groaned softly and reached over, turning off the lamp. “Get some sleep, Sammy.”

 

Sam sighed and rolled onto his side, pulling up the bed sheets. “Yeah, you’re right. We should save this conversation for Dylan.”

 

Dean groaned again and rolled his eyes. “Great,” he muttered, yanking at Sam’s sheets.

 

* * * *

 

“Hey Dad,” Dylan began, walking over to the counter, “did you know that a bus stops just down the street from here?”

 

Dean frowned, looking up at Dylan. “And uh…why aren’t you at home? Why didn’t Danny drive you?”

 

Dylan shrugged, picking at the counter. “I don’t know.”

 

Dean sighed, standing up. “Did you at least tell your mom that you weren’t coming home right after school?” he asked, walking around the counter.

 

“No,” Dylan said, nodding at Dean. “But uh…I’m sure he’ll figure it out.”

 

“Yeah, when you don’t show up,” Dean said, leaning over to grab his phone. “You can call him.” 

 

Dylan took the phone but just held it in his hand, dropping his hand down to his side. “I need to talk to you, Dad.”

 

“You need to call Sam,” Dean said, grasping onto Dylan’s wrist, lifting it up. “Phone, Dylan.”

 

“Dad,” Dylan whined, “please. I just-- please? Can’t you take a break or something?”

 

Dean sighed and looked around, nodding finally. “Yeah Dyl, of course. Come on, let’s just go out back.” He gave Dylan a quick smile, leading Dylan towards the back of the store, pushing open the exit, stepping outside into the bright California sun. “What’s going on?”

 

Dylan looked around, pushing the door closed behind him. “It’s about Danny.”

 

Dean sighed and nodded. “Yeah, Sam told me about it. I’m sorry, Dyl.”

 

“How do you deal with it?” Dylan asked, raising his hand, shading his eyes. “With people leaving?”

 

Dean sighed again and scratched at his head, looking around. “I don’t know, Dyl. I don’t do it very well.”

 

“Mom left, right?” Dylan asked. “He went to Stanford.” 

 

Dean nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Yeah. He did. But Dyl, that was different. We weren’t-- back then we were just brothers,” he watched Dylan shift uncomfortably, “not…you and Danny are a couple.”

 

“Am I just supposed to let him go?” Dylan asked, voice becoming rough as he tried to stay calm. 

 

Dean shrugged before nodding. “Yeah, I think that you are. You love him, you want him to be happy…rolling around on the grass? He sounds happy to me.”

 

“Shouldn’t he be happy with me?” Dylan asked, straightening up. 

 

Dean smiled faintly and shook his head, reaching out to pull Dylan into a hug. “Dylan, if it’s he wants, you have to accept it.”

 

Dylan closed his eyes and rested against Dean, sniffling softly. “I love him, Dad,” he said softly, sniffling again.

 

Dean held Dylan tightly, kissing his forehead. “I know,” he said. “He loves you too.”

 

Dylan pulled back and wiped at his eyes, sniffling. “What if he leaves me?” he asked, trying not to cry too hard in front of his father.

 

Dean swallowed and dropped his eyes, thinking for a moment. “Well, Dyl, if that’s what he wants…then you’ll have to accept that too,” he said finally.

 

Dylan wiped at his eyes and shook his head, looking away from Dean. He closed his eyes, taking a deep shaky breath. “Can I just stay here?” he asked. “Until work or something?”

 

“I can drive you home, Dyl,” Dean offered. “It won’t take long.”

 

“O-- okay,” Dylan nodded, turning back around, pulling open the door to the store. “Thanks.”

 

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, kiddo,” Dean smiled, patting Dylan on the back. “Don’t worry about any of it, okay? Work tonight, shopping tomorrow, prom next week. That’s awesome. Just have fun.”

 

Dylan nodded and reached down, grabbing his backpack. “I’ll try.” He glanced back at Dean, trying feebly to give him a smile.

 

* * * *

 

Dylan turned around, swiping a couple of pieces of popcorn off the counter. “What can I get for you?” he asked, smile disappearing as soon as he realized who it was. 

 

Danny glanced back over at Todd, before nodding once. “Okay, large popcorn, regular popcorn, two large drinks and…” he looked around, “ooh! This large box of Smarties, please and thank you.”

 

Dylan sighed, pressing in the start of Danny’s order. He turned around and grabbed two cups, looking back at Danny. “What would you like to drink?”

 

“A Coke and a cherry slushie,” Danny grinned, glancing back at Todd who just nodded eagerly.

 

Dylan put ice in the first cup before sticking it under the Coke dispenser, pressing the button. He walked over to the slushie machine and filled it up, walking it back over to the counter. He pressed the button on the Coke again, tapping his foot. “Butter on your popcorn?” he asked, pulling out a large bag.

 

“Yes, please,” Todd said, leaning over Danny’s shoulder.

 

Dylan nodded and walked over, filling the bag up with popcorn.

 

“Where’s all those lines you were trying out on me in the car?” Todd asked, straightening back up when Dylan walked back over.

 

“Butter on this one?” Dylan asked, opening the bag.

 

Danny nodded, giving Dylan a smile. “Yes, please.” He glanced back at Todd. “I don’t know, Dad, I thought he’d be happier to see me. And…he isn’t, so I don’t know.” He cleared his throat, turning back to Dylan, who was pressing in the rest of Danny’s order. “And the Smarties too, please,” he reminded him.

 

“Got it,” Dylan said flatly, looking up at Danny expectantly. “Twenty-one sixty-four.”

 

Todd handed Danny a couple of bills, who handed them to Dylan. “So when do you get off?” Danny asked quietly, handing Todd his soda and popcorn.

 

“After closing,” Dylan said, handing Danny his change. “As usual.”

 

“Right,” Danny said, shoving the change in his back pocket, earning a poke from Todd. “So can I uh…pick you up?”

 

“My parents are,” Dylan said, closing the register. Danny sighed and picked up his popcorn and soda, ready to turn around before Dylan cleared his throat. “Don’t forget your Smarties,” he smirked.

 

“Right,” Danny said, awkwardly shifting his popcorn to grab onto the box of candy. He followed after Todd, shaking his head. “Well,” he said, once they were out of the crowd, “that went smashingly.”

 

* * * *

 

Danny’s fingers flexed around the steering wheel, feet tapping nervously. “Okay, okay,” he said softly, taking a deep, calming breath. “Worst he can say is no.” He closed his eyes, leaning back in his seat. “Oh god,” he groaned, glancing down at his watch. 

 

Dylan pulled off his work shoes, slipping them into his bag, pulling out his sneakers. He pulled off his hat and ruffled his hair, straightening up. “Hey, Linds!” he called. “I’ll see you later.”

 

“Sure thing,” Lindsey called back, giving Dylan a wave.

 

Dylan yawned softly and pushed open the doors, crossing his arms as he looked around the parking lot for Dean or Sam. 

 

Danny looked over and swallowed hard, turning the key in the ignition. He pulled out of his parking spot, slowing driving over to the front of the theatre.

 

Dylan rolled his eyes, refusing to look inside at Danny. 

 

Danny rolled down the windows and leaned over in his seat, giving Dylan a wave. “Uh, hi.”

 

Dylan sighed, finally looking down. “Hi.”

 

“I uh, I sort of told your parents I would cover the picking you up thing,” Danny explained. “So…yeah.” He opened the door for him, giving him a smile.

 

“Are you serious?” Dylan asked flatly. “I…can’t believe that my parents agreed to that.”

 

“Okay, it was your mom,” Danny said. “I’m not so sure that your dad knew.”

 

Dylan groaned and looked around for a few more seconds before finally opening the back door, throwing his bag in before climbing into the front seat. “Thanks then, I guess.”

 

Danny smiled, pulling away from the curb. “No worries. I didn’t really have anything else going for tonight anyway.”

 

“I’m sure,” Dylan muttered, crossing his arms. 

 

Danny nodded slowly, clearing his throat softly. “I’m sorry, Dylan,” he said, glancing over at him.

 

“Good,” Dylan said. “You should be.”

 

“For not telling you,” Danny finished. “Maybe-- I should’ve told you before all of the excitement. But I was just so happy and I wanted to share that with you.”

 

Dylan dropped his eyes, watching his feet. “You told me you were going to UCI.”

 

“I know,” Danny agreed. “I said that. But that was before I could afford to go to U-Dub.”

 

“I don’t get your obsession with that school,” Dylan said, shaking his head. “What’s wrong with UCI?”

 

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” Danny began, “but it’s just not where I wanna go. What’s wrong with U-Dub?”

 

“It’s two states away!” Dylan exclaimed. “That’s what’s wrong with it!”

 

“Dylan, I don’t--” Danny shook his head, “I thought that you’d be happy for me.”

 

“And I thought that you loved me enough to stay in the same state,” Dylan snapped. “Huh. Guess that we were both wrong.”

 

Danny shook his head again. “Dylan, it’s not about how much I love you. ‘Cause if it was about that, I’d never leave your side.” Dylan smiled weakly. “But I think that you have to understand how much this means to me,” Danny finished gently, reaching out to rub Dylan’s leg gently.

 

“I think that you have to understand how much you mean to me,” Dylan said softly, shaking his head. “I love you more than anything,” he said, voice breaking, “and you’re leaving me.”

 

“I’m not leaving you,” Danny said. “I mean…I’m going away to school but I’m not leaving you. I love you. You know that. After everything we’ve been through together.”

 

Dylan sniffled and wiped at his eyes, looking out the window. “P-- park the car,” he said, undoing his seatbelt.

 

“Uh…” Danny shook his head gently, looking around, pulling into the empty parking lot of a dark building. “Are you okay?” he asked, unbuckling his seatbelt.

 

Dylan instantly moved over the seat, straddling Danny’s lap, head hitting the roof of the car. “Uh-huh,” he nodded eagerly, running his fingers through Danny’s hair. “I love you,” he breathed, pulling Danny in for a kiss. “Love you so much.”

 

Danny nodded against Dylan, their mouths moving together, wet and sloppy. His hand fumbled with the seat, before he finally managed to get it to go back, sending him down with it and throwing Dylan almost off balance. “I’m not leaving you,” he said breathlessly, pulling back. He cupped Dylan’s cheeks, thumbs rubbing small circles on the bone, meeting Dylan’s eyes. “I’m not.” He leaned up, kissing him again.

 

* * * *

 

“How’s about powder blue with ruffles?” Dean asked, glancing back at Dylan. “I think those are back in.”

 

“Were they ever in?” Dylan asked, shoving his hands in his hoodie. 

 

Sam snorted, trying not to laugh. “Yeah, before either of us were born.”

 

“That kid in American Pie wore one!” Dean exclaimed. “That was after we were born.”

 

Sam stared at Dean in disbelief, shaking his head slowly. “That kid had sex with a pie, Dean. Our son’s not wearing anything that kid even looked at.”

 

“What the hell kind of movies came out back then?” Dylan asked, looking at Sam and Dean. “Sex with pie?”

 

Dean grinned and glanced over at Sam, laughing softly. “Oh trust me, it was a good one, kiddo.” He shook his head, looking around the store. “Okay Dyl, tie tie or bow tie?” he asked.

 

Dylan thought for a moment before just shaking his head. “Uh, I don’t know. Does either one look any particularly better than the other?”

 

“Well, you’ll just try them both on,” Sam said, walking over to the display of ties. 

 

Dean walked over to Dylan, nudging him gently. “Danny’d probably be able to get a better grip on a tie.” He smiled when Dylan’s eyes widened. “But I think you’d look better in a bow tie.”

 

Dylan bit his lip, thinking. “It’s not too James Bond?” he asked, reaching over to gingerly pick up a black bow tie.

 

“No such thing,” Dean assured him. “Sam, bow tie!”

 

Sam dropped the tie he was looking at and walked back over to them. “Black? You’re not even going to go for silver or something?” he asked, eyes running over the display of bow ties. “What’s Danny wearing?”

 

Dylan shrugged. “I don’t know. We haven’t talked about it.”

 

“What’s Danny gonna do with his hair?” Dean asked, looking up at Sam, who just shrugged. “What are you gonna do with your hair, Dyl?” he asked, reaching out to play with Dylan’s hair.

 

“I don’t know,” Dylan said again, swiping Dean’s hand away. “Nothing fancy, just…normal. And I don’t know what Danny’s doing either.” He bit his lip, looking around the store. “Does my shirt have to be white?” he asked, looking up at Sam.

 

Sam shook his head. “No, definitely not. What are you thinking?”

 

“I’m not sure,” Dylan said softly. “I was thinking maybe a grey suit. With a pink shirt.”

 

Dean and Sam both thought for a moment, before Dean nodded and Sam looked around. “Yeah, sounds good,” Dean agreed. “I’ll go look around for those.”

 

“What color tie?” Sam asked, running his fingers over the selection. “These are nice, over here,” he said, glancing over at Dylan. “This brown…or this pink. It’d probably be darker than whatever you shirt is. I wouldn’t put black with it though. There’s grey.”

 

“Can I just wait and see the clothes I get first?” Dylan asked, thumbing the fabric. 

 

“Yeah, of course,” Sam nodded, looking around for Dean. He smiled, reaching out to pull on the string of Dylan’s hood. “You’re going to look really nice, Dylan,” he said softly.

 

Dylan sighed and dropped his eyes, smiling. “Yeah, I hope so,” he admitted quietly. “For Danny.” He cleared his throat and looked back up. “How many pictures are you guys going to want anyway?”

 

Sam laughed, patting Dylan’s shoulder. “Oh, a thousand, I’m sure.”

 

“Great,” Dylan muttered, shaking his head. “Try not embarrass me too much, okay?” he asked, walking over towards Dean.

 

Sam laughed again. “When have we ever embarrassed you?” he asked, following after Dylan. “Do you want matching boxers?” he asked loudly. “For your boyfriend?”

 

Dylan groaned loudly and leaned against Dean, burying his face in Dean’s shirt. “Make him stop, Dad,” he whined. “Please.”

 

Dean turned around, wrapping an arm around Dylan’s shoulders. “Oh, just ignore him. He’s a party pooper. Now, which shade of pink for the shirt?” he asked, holding a couple up.

 

* * * *

 

“Get the door!” Dean called, running up the hallway. “He’s not ready yet!”

 

Sam dropped his glass onto the counter and ran over to the door, pulling it open, smiling. “Hi, Todd,” he said, stepping out of the way. “Where’s Danny?”

 

“Doing the hair,” Todd nodded, stepping into the kitchen. “Dylan?”

 

“Uh, tie, I think,” Sam said, giving Todd another smile. “Is Danny excited?”

 

Todd nodded again. “Yeah, I think so. Nervous, maybe. I don’t know. I probably shouldn’t’ve left him there alone.”

 

“Oh,” Dean said flatly, making his way into the kitchen. “It’s just Todd. Never mind, Dylan!” he called behind him. “Where’s Danny?” he asked.

 

“Hair,” Sam said, picking his glass back up. “Dylan?”

 

“Tie,” Dean replied. He reached out, taking Sam’s glass from him, taking a drink. He let out a deep breath, handing the glass back to Sam. “He’s nervous though. I think.”

 

Todd nodded and looked around the house, making sure that Dylan hadn’t walked out yet. “Uh, I uh…” he cleared his throat, leaning in towards them both, “I don’t think they’re coming home tonight,” he whispered, nodding slowly. “If you get my drift.”

 

Dean smiled over at Sam. “Um, does Dylan know?”

 

“Not sure,” Todd admitted, straightening back up. “Maybe. I’m sure that he’ll figure it out eventually.” He looked back when there was a knock at the door, smiling. He walked over and pulled it open, looking out at Danny. “Hey, kiddo,” he said, moving out of the way.

 

Danny swallowed hard and nodded nervously over at Sam and Dean. “Do I…look okay?” he asked.

 

Sam grinned and Dean nodded. “Yeah, you look great,” Sam assured him. “I’ll…I’m gonna go see if Dylan’s ready yet. Just wait here.” He smiled again and hurried off towards Dylan’s bedroom, knocking lightly on the door.

 

“Come in,” Dylan said softly, glancing over when Sam pushed open the door. “Is Danny here?” he asked, pushing at his hair. 

 

Sam nodded, walking into the room. “You look nice, Dylan,” he said softly. “You ready yet?”

 

Dylan shook his head slowly. “I can’t get my hair right. And I think Dad tied my tie wrong.” He looked over at Sam. “Can you help?”

 

“Yeah,” Sam said, walking over to him, untying his tie. “Your hair looks fine, Dyl. You look great.” He began retying Dylan’s tie, humming to himself. “What don’t you like about it?”

 

Dylan shrugged, watching Sam’s fingers, looking at the scars on his right hand. “So for like…a year, you couldn’t do this?”

 

“Nope,” Sam replied. “Longer than that. Uh…fifteen months, maybe. Sounds right. Couldn’t do much of anything.”

 

“Is Dad ever gonna get surgery for his ankle?” Dylan asked, turning back to his mirror. 

 

“Probably not,” Sam said, turning Dylan around to start on his hair. “He’s fine the way he is.”

 

“Gonna get worse when he gets older,” Dylan pointed out.

 

Sam sighed, swiping Dylan’s hair over. “Probably,” he admitted, giving it one last ruffle. “Is that good?” he asked.

 

Dylan looked into the mirror, nodding slowly. “Ye-- yeah, it is. Thank you.”

 

Sam kissed Dylan’s temple, wrapping his arms around him. “I want you to have fun tonight, okay?” 

 

Dylan nodded. “I will,” he promised, giving Sam a smile.

 

“Good,” Sam grinned. “Now. You need your boutonnière and you will be done.”

 

“Is Danny wearing one?” Dylan asked. 

 

“Uh, yeah,” Sam nodded, walking towards the door, “I think so. Come on. We’ll get Danny to pin it on you.”

 

“It isn’t too gay?” Dylan asked, following Sam down the hallway. “I mean…a flower? A pink flower?” He cleared his throat and dropped his eyes shyly, moving close behind Sam. “Hi,” he said, looking back up at Danny.

 

“Hi,” Danny said softly, studying Dylan closely. “Hi.”

 

Dylan smiled and walked over to Dean as Sam went for the boutonnière, swallowing hard. “Do I look okay?” he asked quietly, looking up at Dean.

 

“Great,” Dean smiled. He stepped away from Dylan, giving Sam room to hold the boutonnière up to Dylan’s jacket. “Danny?” he asked. “You wanna?”

 

Danny looked up and nodded jerkily, walking over to Dylan, taking the boutonnière from Sam. “Sorry if I stab you,” he whispered, meeting Dylan’s eyes.

 

Dylan smiled and shrugged. “It’d be okay. Just-- just as long as I don’t bleed,” he murmured, closing his eyes for a moment as Danny began working the pin. 

 

Danny let out a sigh of relief, nodding once. “O-- okay. It’s on.” He stepped back, looking over to give Todd a quick smile. “It’s on.”

 

Todd smiled and nodded. “It is. And no blood. You two ready to go?” he asked.

 

“Yeah, I think so,” Danny nodded, reaching over to grasp Dylan’s hand. “Are you ready?”

 

Dylan smiled nervously over at Sam and Dean, before looking back to Danny, nodding. “Yeah. I’m ready.” He leaned up, kissing Dean’s cheek. “Bye, Dad.”

 

“Have fun, kiddo,” Dean smiled.

 

Dylan reached up, wrapping an arm around Sam’s neck. “Bye, Mom.”

 

“Be good,” Sam said, patting Dylan’s back. “Both of you. Have fun.”

 

Dylan nodded and followed Danny to the door, smiling back and waving before stepping outside.

 

“See you guys later,” Todd said, waving as he walked out behind the two. 

 

* * * *

 

Danny leaned over, kissing Dylan’s temple, squeezing his hand. “Didn’t get a chance to tell ya how good you look,” he said softly.

 

Dylan smiled and dropped his eyes. “Thank you.” He cleared his throat gently and looked up, meeting Danny’s eyes. “I like your suit.”

 

Danny grinned, glancing down at his outfit. “Thanks.” He looked around the ballroom, taking a deep breath. “God. I graduate next week,” he muttered. “Weird, huh?”

 

Dylan nodded jerkily, taking a deep breath. “Yeah. It’s gonna be different without you here.” He shifted his fingers in Danny’s. 

 

“You’ll be fine,” Danny smiled, kissing Dylan again. “You’ll stop missing me after awhile,” he assured him.

 

“Yeah,” Dylan breathed, looking around. “You wanna dance?” he asked.

 

Danny looked over, grinning. “You wanna dance with me?” he asked teasingly. “Why Dylan, that’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.” He pulled Dylan into his arms, spinning him back out. “You know that you don’t even have to ask.”

 

Dylan blushed and smiled, sliding his hand to Danny’s shoulder, snuggling into him. “When’d you learn to dance?” he asked, moving with Danny, looking down to watch their feet.

 

“When I was like, seven,” Danny replied, nudging Dylan, getting him to look back up. “Don’t watch the feet, you’ll trip more often.”

 

“Right,” Dylan murmured, resting his head against Danny’s chest, taking a deep breath. “I’ve never danced with anybody before,” he admitted.

 

Danny chuckled. “I couldn’t tell,” he teased, kissing Dylan’s forehead. “Well then, I’m happy that I could be your first.”

 

Dylan laughed loudly, nodding. “Yeah, me too.”

 

* * * *

 

Sam reached down, adjusting his jeans, tapping his foot against the floor to the beat of the song on the radio. “Where are we going?” he asked, glancing over at Dean.

 

“For a drive,” Dean replied, tongue wetting his lips. “Didn’t think Dylan should be the only one getting out of the house tonight.”

 

“But where are we going?” Sam asked again, whining a little. 

 

“For a drive,” Dean repeated, slower this time. “You’ll see once we’re there.”

 

“So we are going somewhere,” Sam murmured, looking around outside. “Hmm. On a date?”

 

Dean laughed softly, shaking his head. “Nope. Not really. Maybe a really lame date.” He reached over, squeezing Sam’s leg. “But I don’t take my baby on really lame dates.”

 

“I’m your baby now, am I?” Sam smiled. “Well, thanks so much, Dean.” He frowned and looked out the window when something familiar went by. “Wait…we’re not in Fullerton, are we?”

 

“Uh, nope,” Dean replied. “We left Fullerton more than a few minutes ago, Sammy.”

 

Sam pushed himself up in his seat and watched out the window. “Are we going to visit Paula?” he asked, glancing back at Dean. “‘Cause sorry, that would be more than a lame date. That’d be the date from hell.”

 

“Paula’s not the only person who lives in Anaheim,” Dean pointed out, slowing down at a stop sign, smiling as he glanced around. “Or lived, I guess.”

 

Sam sighed and sat back down, grinning as they drove by a familiar park. “Dean, what are we doing here?”

 

Dean drove just a bit further down the street, slowing down, pulling up to the curb. “I don’t know. The older Dylan gets, the more I think of what he was like as a baby.” He turned the keys in the ignition, settling back into his seat.

 

“Are we going in?” Sam asked.

 

Dean shook his head. “I don’t think us saying that we lived here sixteen years ago would work. But just looking at it…brings back memories, huh?”

 

Sam smiled weakly, pressing his face to his window. “I gave birth in that building,” he said quietly.

 

“Just think what would’ve happened if we had never left,” Dean said. “Dylan never would’ve met Danny.”

 

“A lot of things never would’ve happened,” Sam pointed out. “Doesn’t mean the fire still didn’t suck.” He sighed. “The demon said they’d be coming for him. But nothing has; not yet.”

 

“Not yet,” Dean agreed softly. “You ever think about it though?”

 

“Did you bring me here just to get me depressed?” Sam asked, turning back to Dean. “Because it’s not going to work. All being here makes me think about is how happy we were.”

 

Dean frowned, moving over the seat, getting closer to Sam. “Were?” he repeated.

 

“Well, are,” Sam corrected, “but I mean, everything that happened in there. Dylan was born in there. Have you been that happy since?”

 

Dean sighed, thinking. “I’m not sure. No, probably not. Everything I can think of involved Dylan, but without him actually being born…” he leaned over, pressing a kiss to Sam’s head, wrapping an arm around him, pulling him in. “I ever thank you for giving me him?”

 

Sam smiled, leaning against Dean. “I don’t know. Maybe. Never hurts to hear it though.”

 

“Thank you so much,” Dean whispered, kissing Sam again. “Thank you for my baby.”

 

“You make it seem like it was all me,” Sam said. “I just carried him, Dean.” He tilted his head back, smiling up at Dean. “But I suppose that you’re welcome,” he teased. 

 

“I’m sorry that he’s not mine,” Dean said softly, squeezing Sam tightly.

 

Sam closed his eyes, reaching up to grasp onto Dean’s wrist. “So am I,” he admitted quietly.

 

Dean nodded and unwrapped his arm from Sam, sitting back in his seat. “I think that Dylan should spend some time with Bobby this summer.”

 

“Yeah?” Sam asked, looking over at Dean. “Why?”

 

“I don’t know,” Dean admitted, shaking his head slowly. “Take his mind off of Danny leaving, I guess. Give him something to do. Bobby will take care of him.”

 

“Dylan’s not going to wanna leave before Danny does,” Sam pointed out. “He’s going to wanna spend every second of everyday with him up until he leaves.”

 

Dean nodded to himself. “Yeah. Well, Danny leaves second week of August. School starts second week of September.”

 

Sam nodded, smiling over at Dean. “Well, it sounds like a plan to me. What’s Bobby gonna do with him though?”

 

Dean smiled, shrugging. “What Dad would’ve done with him. He’s going to teach him. Train him.” He looked over at Sam. “I know it’s never what we wanted for him, not really, but for some reason…I just don’t think him knowing basic Latin is enough anymore.”

 

“You want him to hunt?” Sam asked in surprise. 

 

“No, not exactly,” Dean replied. “I just want him to be able to protect himself, once we’re gone.” He smiled weakly. “Is that okay?”

 

Sam thought for a moment, watching out the window, before pushing himself over on the seat, dropping down on Dean’s lap.

 

“Oof,” Dean groaned, looking up at Sam in surprise. “What’s going on?”

 

Sam grinned and wrapped his arms around Dean. “You’re a great father, Dean Winchester.” He gave Dean a kiss, sighing softly as their mouths moved together. “And you damn well know it.”

 

* * * *

 

Danny unlocked the door and pushed it open, smiling back at Dylan. “Um, do you wanna go get in the shower for a couple of minutes?” he asked, letting the door close behind him.

 

“With you?” Dylan asked, trying to look around the dark room.

 

Danny grinned at the thought, but shook his head anyway. “Uh no, not exactly. By yourself. I gotta do a couple things in here.”

 

Dylan smiled and wrapped his arm around Danny’s neck, pulling him in. “What are you up to, Mr Ford?”

 

“Dude, ew,” Danny laughed, “that’s my father. No, that’s not even my father, that’s my grandfather. And I’m not up to anything. Just…for a minute, okay?”

 

“Fine,” Dylan agreed, reaching out for the doorknob. “Just let me know when I can stop hanging out in the bathroom.” He stepped inside and flicked on the lights, pushing the door closed behind him. “Don’t do anything weird!” he called from behind the door.

 

“Don’t worry!” Danny called back, turning on the lights. He smiled and nodded, looking around at the candles he had placed there earlier in the day. He grabbed his lighter from the table and began walking around the room, carefully lighting each of the candles, humming to himself. He glanced back when heard clanking around in the bathroom, laughing softly. “What ya doing in there, babe?”

 

Dylan grinned and finished purposely knocking things over on the counter, walking over to the door. “Oh, nothing, Danny. But if you don’t hurry up, I might have to start doing something. Wink wink, nudge nudge!”

 

“Do you get your lack of patience from your mom or your dad?” Danny asked, continuing on around the room. 

 

Dylan shrugged off his jacket, laying it down over the back of the toilet. “Who knows,” he muttered, untucking his shirt and untying his tie, keeping it around his neck as he unbuttoned the top couple buttons.

 

Danny swallowed and looked around the room, nodding to himself before walking back over to the entrance, flicking the light switch. “Well, if you haven’t started by yourself, you can come back out now.”

 

Dylan grinned and opened the door slowly, turning off the lights. He frowned and looked around, realizing the main lights were off, but the room was still flooded with light, and small flickering shadows were on the walls. “What’s going on?” he asked quietly, smiling faintly once he realized the room was full of candles. “You trying to seduce me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

 

Danny laughed again and reached out, pulling on Dylan’s collar, falling against the wall. “Is it working?” he asked, tongue wetting his lips, meeting Dylan’s eyes. 

 

“You don’t have to try,” Dylan murmured, waiting a moment before pushing Danny up against the wall, their mouths moving together. Dylan moved his hands up, pressed to the wall on either side of Danny’s head. “I-- I didn’t tell my parents I wouldn’t be home,” he said suddenly, pulling back.

 

“I think they can guess, Dyl,” Danny smirked, cupping the back of Dylan’s neck, pulling him back in. “God, you looked so sexy tonight,” he breathed, his other hand working to unbutton Dylan’s shirt. “Sexier than I’ve ever seen you.”

 

Dylan swallowed and blushed a little, walking backwards towards the king-sized bed, feeling the mattress against the back of his knees and he dropped down, looking up at Danny. “How long can we stay here?” he asked, pulling off his tie and shrugging off his shirt.

 

“Till noon,” Danny murmured, reaching out to move his hands over Dylan’s chest, tongue wetting his lips. He smiled and slowly dropped down to his knees, moving his hands down onto Dylan’s thighs, massaging them gently before reaching up to undo his pants, looking up at him. “Are the candles romantic?” he asked quietly, before slipping his hand into Dylan’s pants, pushing the waistband of his boxers down.

 

Dylan looked around the room, pushing his fingers through Danny’s curls. “Yeah,” he nodded, breath hitching when Danny’s fingers wrapped around him. “It’s sweet. Thank you.”

 

Danny nodded and closed his eyes as he opened his mouth, wrapping his lips around Dylan.

 

“Oh, God,” Dylan muttered, fingers digging into Danny a little harder. He let out a deep, shaky breath, spreading his legs a little more.

 

Danny pulled off and licked his lips, opening his mouth around Dylan again. He curled his tongue, lapping at the slit. “Gorgeous,” he murmured, pulling off to take a breath. He began twisting his wrist gently, looking up at Dylan, shifting on his knees. “Man, I love you.” The head of Dylan’s dick slipped past his lips and he began sucking, cheeks hollowing just a bit. 

 

Dylan smiled down at Danny, eyes filling with tears. “I love you too,” he whispered, brushing Danny’s hair away from his eyes. 

 

Danny pulled off of Dylan, standing up slowly, gently pushing at Dylan’s chest.

 

Dylan got the message and began moving up the bed, swallowing hard as Danny began undressing in front of him. He lifted his hips and pushed at his pants and boxers, wanting them off as quickly as possible. 

 

Danny nodded over at the nightstand as he started crawling up the bed, watching Dylan retrieve the lube and condom, dropping them onto the bed sheets beside his hips. “You gonna let me fuck ya?” he muttered, clutching onto the lube and condom, nipping at Dylan’s jaw and neck. 

 

Dylan wrapped his arms around Danny’s shoulders, pulling him in. “I’m going to miss you,” he said softly, lying down against the pillows, bringing his legs up.

 

“Not tonight you won’t,” Danny said, reaching down to jerk himself a couple of times, dropping down for a moment onto Dylan’s chest as he reached over, opening the condom. “Tonight…I’m here with you, okay? Stop thinking about August.”

 

“I’m just scared,” Dylan said, watching Danny roll the condom down. “I don’t know what it’s like to be without you.”

 

Danny pushed himself up to kiss Dylan, grabbing onto the lube, popping the top with his thumb. “You think it’s gonna be easy for me?” he asked, gently and carefully pushing two fingers into Dylan, watching him shift beneath him. “You’re my best friend.” He kissed Dylan again, moaning into Dylan’s mouth as Dylan’s legs wrapped around his waist. “You okay?” he asked, rubbing a bit more lube onto the latex.

 

Dylan nodded eagerly and shifted again underneath Danny, swallowing when Danny’s fingers slipped out. “You looked so nice tonight,” he said quietly, lifting and spreading his legs a little further, giving Danny more access to begin pushing in.

 

“God,” Danny groaned, fingers digging into Dylan’s arms as he began slowly inching inside, breathing heavily.

 

Dylan’s toes curled a little and his ankles locked behind Danny, feet pressing into his lower back and the top of his ass. When he felt Danny finally stop pushing, he let out the breath he had been holding in, closing his eyes. “I like you in a tux,” he murmured, moving his lips over Danny’s skin, whatever he could reach.

 

Danny smiled, pushing himself up on shaky arms, looking down at Dylan as he slowly pulled his hips back, thrusting gently. “I like you like this.” He smiled again as Dylan blushed, leaning down to kiss him. “I love you,” he breathed, running a hand up and down Dylan’s side before reaching between them, wrapping his fingers around Dylan’s dick, stroking him slowly. “You’re such a girl sometimes.”

 

Dylan opened his eyes and looked away, head turning to watch the wall, lying back. “Guess this makes you the man then, huh?”

 

“Not what I meant,” Danny said, thrusting a little bit quicker, a little bit harder. He reached out, cupping Dylan’s cheek, turning him back towards him. “I love you,” he offered gently, trying to smile.

 

Dylan eventually smiled back and began shifting under Danny, trying to adjust their positions, gently pushing at Danny’s chest with one hand, trying to sit up.

 

Danny pushed himself up on one arm and moved the other one to wrap around Dylan’s back, pulling him up as he sat up, Dylan moving to his lap.

 

Dylan gasped as Danny pushed further inside with the new position, and wrapped his arms around Danny, burying his face in Danny’s chest. “God,” he muttered, slowly working his hips up, before pushing himself back down. 

 

“Yeah,” Danny breathed, gripping at Dylan’s hips, flipping his hair out of his eyes, “like-- like that, Dylan.” He nipped at Dylan’s exposed neck, soothing the skin with his tongue, long, wet licks. “God, you’re so tight.” He started jerking Dylan off again, ducking his head enough to lap at Dylan’s nipple.

 

“Stop talking,” Dylan whispered, head lolling around, feeling like Danny’s mouth and hands were everywhere at once, eyes shut. “Quiet.”

 

“Dylan, I’m fucking you here,” Danny pointed out, lifting his head, “I can talk a little dirty.”

 

“Then just do it quietly,” Dylan muttered, moving his hand to the back of Danny’s head, pulling him in for a kiss, tongue sweeping into Danny’s mouth. 

 

Danny smiled and laughed softly against Dylan’s mouth, nipping at his lip. “You’re such a control freak,” he said, meeting Dylan’s eyes once he opened them.

 

Dylan swallowed and shifted his legs, getting them out from behind Danny and pushed him down until Danny was flat against the mattress. He hunched over, hands pressed against Danny’s chest, fingers digging in every time Danny’s dick hit the right spot inside of him, breathing heavily, mouth only inches from Danny’s. “Just shut up for once, Danny,” he said, kissing him again.

 

* * * *

 

“Dylan,” Danny whispered, running his fingers over Dylan’s arm, watching him shiver. “Dylan babe, you gotta wake up.”

 

Dylan murmured in his sleep and stirred, rolling away from Danny, taking some of the blankets with him.

 

“We have to check out soon,” Danny continued, mouth by Dylan’s ear. “Have to take you home so your parents don’t kill me.” He kissed Dylan’s cheek. “Please, Dyl?”

 

Dylan sighed and shifted on the floor, eyes finally opening, small slits looking up at Danny. “What?” he asked quietly.

 

“We have to check out soon,” Danny repeated, smiling down at Dylan. “We gotta get up.”

 

Dylan groaned and finally managed to push himself up a little, propped up on his elbows, hair sticking out in all directions. “No round four?” he asked, pouting a little.

 

Danny laughed loudly and shook his head. “No, Dyl, no round four. Now come on, get up.”

 

“Gimme a sec,” Dylan muttered, dropping back down to the floor, groaning in pain when his head missed the pillow. “Why are we on the floor?” he asked, running his fingers over the carpet.

 

“Too many wet spots on the bed,” Danny reminded him, throwing the sheets off of him, slowly standing up. 

 

Dylan smiled faintly and rolled onto his side, wrapping his arms around one of the pillows that were down there with them. “Thank you for taking me to prom, Danny,” he said softly.

 

Danny smiled and pulled on his boxers. “Thank you for being my date.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, looking around. “I have a present for you,” he said, nudging Dylan gently with his foot.

 

“Yeah, you can just go get that for me,” Dylan said, pulling the sheets up, “I’ll be here.”

 

Danny smiled but rolled his eyes, walking over to his jacket on the table, going into one of the pockets. He grabbed the small box and sat down beside Dylan, leaning down to kiss his shoulder. “Gimme your hand.”

 

Dylan sighed and lifted his right arm, hand dangling. “Tired,” he muttered, feeling something cool slip onto his finger. His eyes fluttered and he looked over, examining his hand. “Your school ring.”

 

Danny nodded, closing the box, reaching up to set it on the mattress. “It’s yours now, though. I want you to have it.”

 

Dylan smiled, pushing himself up, giving Danny a kiss full of morning breath. “Thank you,” he said softly, kissing him again. 

 

Danny pulled back and dropped his eyes, fingers absentmindedly twisting the bed sheets. “It’s uh…I…” he sighed, looking up to meet Dylan’s wondering eyes, “I want it to be a sort of…promise ring.”

 

“Yeah?” Dylan asked, examining his hand.

 

“Like, a pre-engagement ring,” Danny finished. “‘Cause I wanna marry you one day.”

 

Dylan slowly looked up at Danny, swallowing hard. “Um…I’m only sixteen.”

 

Danny smiled. “I said one day, not today. I know that, Dyl. I just wanna make sure that-- that you think of me, when I’m gone.” He kissed Dylan softly. “If it’s stupid and you don’t wanna, I still want you to keep the ring. It’s for you, no matter what.”

 

Dylan sat up and examined the ring, twisting around his finger, thinking. “Yeah,” he said finally.

 

“Yeah, what?” Danny asked.

 

“Yeah,” Dylan said again, “I’ll-- I’ll think of you when you’re gone.” He smiled up at Danny. “I promise.”

 

* * * *

 

Dylan let his hand slip from Danny’s as he walked inside, closing the door behind him. “Hi!” he called, walking over to the table, setting down his coat and tie. 

 

Dean looked up and grinned, pushing himself off the couch. “Well well, the prodigal son returns,” he smiled. “Little late, isn’t it?” he asked.

 

“We uh…” Dylan reached down, pulling off his shoes, “we--”

 

“Went to a hotel?” Sam offered, following after Dean. “Yeah, we figured. Plus, Todd sort of mentioned it to us before you left.”

 

“And you let me go anyway?” Dylan asked in surprise, reaching up to push his hair off his forehead, swallowing when he saw both Sam and Dean’s eyes follow the ring. “So uh yeah, I’m gonna go have a shower.”

 

“Wait,” Sam said, pulling the chair out for Dylan. “How was it? Did you have fun?”

 

Dylan sat down slowly, looking up at his parents. “Uh yeah, I guess. We danced. Drank some punch. Normal prom-y stuff, I assume.”

 

“How long were you there for?” Dean asked, leaning against the wall.

 

“Oh,” Dylan said, thinking quickly, “um, I don’t know. A bit. Enough for Danny to get his prom experience.”

 

Dean smiled over at Sam, who had taken the seat beside Dylan. “Anything else?” he prompted.

 

Dylan shook his head quickly. “Nope.” He was ready to push himself back up before Sam’s hand was on his shoulder.

 

“Interesting ring you’ve got there, Dyl,” Sam said, reaching over to lightly grasp onto Dylan’s hand, bringing it towards him. “A school ring. You don’t have a school ring.”

 

“No, no, it’s Danny’s,” Dylan explained, taking his hand back from Sam.

 

“Oh well then,” Dean nodded, “don’t you think that you should go give it back to him?”

 

“Well, I mean, it was Danny’s,” Dylan corrected, “but now it’s mine. He gave it to me. As a present.”

 

“Just as a present?” Sam asked, smiling up at Dean. 

 

Dylan sighed loudly. “Fine! Fine, okay? We’re-- it’s a promise ring. We’re pre-engaged. Is that what you wanted to hear?” he asked.

 

“Not as loudly as you chose to share it, no, but yes,” Sam said, “that is what we wanted to hear.”

 

“He wants to marry me someday,” Dylan said quietly, looking up at his parents. “And I know what you’re thinking, we’re too young and we’re really only each other’s first real relationships and that we shouldn’t rush into anything--”

 

“Reading my mind,” Dean said flatly.

 

“But I know how young we are,” Dylan continued, “and we’re different from everybody else and we’re not rushing into anything. I’d be surprised if we ever did get married. Okay? I promise, we won’t elope before he leaves or something.”

 

Dean smiled. “Speaking of when Danny leaves, after he does, you wanna spend the rest of the summer with Bobby?”

 

“What for?” Dylan asked, looking over at Dean.

 

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know. To train you.”

 

“I thought you didn’t want me to hunt,” Dylan reminded him. “Like, ever.”

 

“You know how Danny took karate,” Sam began, “but Todd told him that he didn’t ever want him to actually use it?”

 

“I thought we both agreed that that was stupid,” Dylan said.

 

“That’s kind of like this,” Sam continued, ignoring Dylan’s comment. “We just want you to be prepared. If something ever happens Dylan, to either of us, or you’re alone…we want you to be able to do something. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, and that would probably make Bobby happy, but if you want, he’s willing.”

 

“Why can’t you guys teach me?” Dylan asked. “I mean…you’re my parents and I wouldn’t have to go halfway across the country.”

 

“Because when we need help, we go to Bobby,” Sam replied. “He knows what he’s doing. And-- and we just think that it would be nice for you. Will you at least think about it?”

 

Dylan nodded and stood up slowly, quickly smiling at his parents. “I’m gonna go have that shower now.” He walked into the bathroom, twisting his ring around his finger, closing the door behind him.

 

After only a moment, Dean pushed himself off the wall. “I’m gonna go beat the little bastard’s ass,” he said. “Nobody proposes to my sixteen-year-old son!”

 

Sam rolled his eyes and stood up quickly, blocking Dean’s way. “Dean…they’re not going to get married. Danny’s moving away for four years. If Dylan wants to wear that ring, let him wear the ring.”

 

“So when they break up, it’ll just hurt more?” Dean asked. “Uh-huh, no way. Not my kid. What the hell is Danny doing, proposing two months before he leaves?”

 

Sam sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know. They love each other, Dean. Just them have that. Okay?” he asked, reaching up to cup Dean’s cheek, keeping his eyes on him. “Okay?”

 

Dean sighed and nodded finally, crossing his arms. “Fine. Whatever. I just…” he shook his head, “they’re like, engaged, Sam. Our son got engaged before we did.”

 

Sam laughed and shook his head. “I think it’s a bit different, Dean. But it’s only pre-engaged and if they can’t even get married without our permission, right? Well, Dylan can’t anyway. They don’t marry sixteen-year-olds anymore, Dean. Stop worrying so much.” He walked by Dean, patting his shoulder.

 

“Yeah, whatever,” Dean muttered, following Sam back into the living room. 

 

Dylan pulled off his ring, bringing it up to examine in closely, noticing Danny’s initials engraved on the inside of the band. He smiled faintly, kissing the ring. He sighed and reached over, turning on the water, before slipping his ring back on, this time on his left hand.


	30. Chapter 29

Title: Look What Love Has Done - Volume 3 - Chapter 29

Pairing: Sam/Dean

Disclaimer: Not mine

Rating: R this chapter

Summary: Whatever problems Sam and Dylan may not be admitting, Dean gets involved in something that is much worse.

Author's Note: Forget volume one, forget volume two; this is volume three 

 

sixteen years, five months and twenty-seven days old

 

Dylan groaned and rubbed at his eyes, head dropping forward to smack into his book. “This is the most boring book I’ve read in my entire life.” He shoved it across the table, not even looking up when he heard it fall to the floor.

 

Sam pulled his chair over towards Dylan and reached over, brushing Dylan’s hair from his forehead. “That doesn’t mean you can just throw it around, Dylan. Pick it up please.”

 

Dylan sighed and lifted his head, focusing on the book, glancing over at Sam when the book rose up and landed on the table. “Happy?” he asked. 

 

“I was thinking more along the lines of with your hands,” Sam said, standing up, “but I guess that’s better than nothing. Thank you.” He reached over and opened the door when he saw Dean pull into the driveway, going back to the stove. “You have to read it, you have a report due on it and a test. First English report of senior year, I’m not letting you fail it.”

 

“Then you do it for me,” Dylan snapped.

 

“Hey,” Dean said, walking into the house, “don’t talk to him like that.” He leaned over, kissing Sam’s cheek, raising an eyebrow at Dylan. “Read the book.”

 

“Why?” Dylan asked, reaching over to grab the book. “It’s stupid. It’s a stupid book and it’s a stupid report.”

 

“Fine then,” Dean said, turning around, “be the stupid kid who’s too lazy to finish the book. But don’t be rude to us about it. Get it?”

 

“Got it,” Dylan muttered, walking out of the kitchen.

 

“Good,” Dean said, turning back around to Sam. “What the hell’s wrong with that kid?” he asked, hand on Sam’s back. 

 

Sam shrugged, reaching over to grab his glass of water. “I don’t know. He’s just stressed or something. Maybe all those years of teenage angst have caught up with him. I knew it was too easy.”

 

Dean smiled, leaning down, smelling the stove. “What are you making?” he asked, glancing up.

 

Sam shrugged again, reaching over to the lift the lid on the pot. “Rice.”

 

“That it?” Dean asked, leaning over to look at the rice.

 

“Chicken fingers,” Sam continued, smiling over at Dean. “Don’t worry, Dean, I’m not gonna let you starve. Fudgsicles in the freezer.”

 

Dean perked right up, looking over to the refrigerator. “Ooh, fudge.”

 

“For after supper,” Sam said, glancing over at Dean.

 

Dean smiled and wrapped his arms around Sam’s waist, resting his head against Sam’s back. “Aw Sammy, what would I ever do without you?” he asked, looking up at him. 

 

“I have no idea,” Sam murmured, reaching over to turn off the oven. “Would you be willing to get the plates out for me?”

 

Dean sighed loudly, shaking his head. “Oh, anything for you, Sammy.” He grinned and walked over to the cupboard, grabbing three plates, setting them down on the cupboard. “Wait, are we expecting Dylan to wanna eat?” he asked.

 

Sam lifted his head, thinking. “I don’t know. Make him a plate anyway. Least he can do is eat in his bedroom.” He rubbed at his eyes, looking around for his glasses. “I think I need to start wearing these more often,” he said, putting them on.

 

“You look like a loser,” Dean said automatically, going to the refrigerator for drinks. 

 

Sam sighed quietly, turning off the stove. “Gee, thanks, Dean. That means a lot.” He glanced back at Dean, reaching up to pull off his glasses, setting them back down on the counter. 

 

“You want me to serve it up, or what?” Dean asked, finishing pouring the drinks. “I’ll arrange the chicken and the rice on the plate just the way you like it.”

 

Sam smiled faintly. “Yeah, thanks Dean. I’m gonna go get in something less…something more comfortable.” He picked at his jeans, walking towards their bedroom.”

 

Dean walked over to the stove and grabbed an oven mitt, opening the oven, pulling out the tray of chicken fingers, quickly setting it down on the counter. He began humming to himself, grabbing the pot of rice, walking it over to the plates. 

 

Sam swallowed and sat down on the bed, rubbing at his eyes. He unbuttoned his shirt, shrugging it off so that he could pull on his t-shirt. He stood up and pushed down his jeans, reaching over to grab his sweatpants. He stepped into them, pulling them on, walking over to his dresser. 

 

Dean set the plates down on the table, reaching over to grab the glasses, setting them down beside the plates. He smiled and nodded once, walking towards Dylan’s bedroom. He walked down the hall, pushing open Dylan’s door. “Are you eating?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe.

 

Dylan sighed and curled up on his side, shaking his head. “I’m not very hungry,” he said quietly, examining his hand in front of him.

 

Dean smiled sympathetically, walking into the bedroom, sitting down beside Dylan. “When’s the last time you talked to him?” he asked, reaching out to play with Dylan’s hood.

 

Dylan shrugged. “Couple of days ago.”

 

“You know, it’s not nice to take it out on Sam,” Dean said. “He’s just trying.”

 

Dylan nodded, glancing back at Dean. “What’d Mom make?” he asked.

 

“Chicken fingers and rice,” Dean smiled. “Come on. You eat the supper he made for you, and I’ll…write the first paragraph of your paper. Deal?”

 

Dylan finally smiled and sat up, nodding. “Yeah, okay.” He moved his legs off the bed, standing up, looking down at Dean. “But it better be good chicken and rice.”

 

“Sam ever make something that wasn’t good?” Dean asked, following Dylan down the hallway.

 

Sam walked out of the bedroom, pulling at his t-shirt, reaching up to scratch at his neck. He sighed and sat down at the table, bringing his feet up onto his chair. He wrapped an arm around his legs and reached out, grabbing onto a chicken finger. He bit into it, sighing as he chewed.

 

“You okay?” Dean asked, pulling out his chair.

 

Sam nodded, swallowing. “Yeah, just tired. Maybe I’m coming down with a cold.”

 

“Probably got it from Dylan,” Dean said, nudging Dylan under the table. “Kids always get sick when they get back to school.” He cleared his throat and reached out, grabbing his glass. “Work okay today?”

 

Sam nodded, taking another bite. “Yeah, it was fine.” He reached out, picking up his fork. He took a couple of bites of rice, looking over at Dean, who was watching him closely. “Yeah?”

 

Dean thought for a moment before shaking his head. “Nothing. I like the way you look in that shirt.”

 

Dylan sighed loudly, rolling his eyes and Sam smiled weakly, dropping his eyes back down to his plate. “Aren’t you guys too old for this?” Dylan asked.

 

Sam lifted his head and Dean looked over at him. “For what?” Dean asked, dropping his fork. “For compliments?”

 

“You know what I mean,” Dylan said. “For like…hitting on him.”

 

Dean shook his head and reached over, grasping onto Sam’s hand. “Never too old to hit on my man.”

 

Dylan swallowed and shoved his chair back from the table. “Your brother, you mean,” he muttered, walking back towards his bedroom. 

 

Sam swallowed and moved his hand out from Dean’s, dropping it off the table. “I guess that’s what it’s about.”

 

Dean watched Dylan until he was down the hallway, sighing sadly. “I find it hard to believe he chooses now to get upset about it.” He rubbed at his face, shaking his head. “Um…let’s just finish supper, okay?” 

 

Sam nodded, grabbing another chicken finger. “Is it okay?” he asked, nodding down at Dean’s plate.

 

Dean took a bite of his chicken, nodding eagerly as he chewed. “Great, as usual.”

 

“I’m glad,” Sam said quietly, taking a drink of milk.

 

* * * *

 

Dylan reached back and turned up the stereo, hand moving over to grab his cell phone next. He sighed and began going through the address book, highlighting Danny’s name. He stared at the screen before turning his phone off, throwing it to the foot of his bed. 

 

“You coming to bed?” Sam asked tiredly, pulling at the comforter. 

 

“Just gimme a sec,” Dean replied, leaning down to kiss Sam’s temple, standing up. “I wanna go say goodnight to Dylan.”

 

Sam nodded slowly, yawning loudly, stretching under the bed sheets. “Yeah, I’ll be here.”

 

Dean grinned, nodding. “I sure hope so, kiddo. You’re my heating blanket.” He wrapped his arms around himself and faked a shiver, smiling when Sam laughed. “I’ll be right back.”

 

Sam nodded again and rolled over onto his stomach, settling into the pillows and sheets. 

 

Dean walked out of the bedroom, feet padding on the carpet floor. He yawned softly, stretching an arm above his head as he walked down the hallway. He knocked on Dylan’s door, leaning against the doorframe.

 

“Come in!” Dylan called, reaching up to turn down his music.

 

“Thank you,” Dean said, nodding as he walked in, “I was gonna to ask you to turn that down.”

 

Dylan nodded and made a small noise, reaching over to grab his book. “Are you guys going to bed?” he asked.

 

“We are,” Dean replied. “Just wanted to let you know, come say goodnight.” He sat down on the edge of Dylan’s bed.

 

“Where’s Mom then?” Dylan asked, opening his book where he had the page marked.

 

Dean let out a deep breath, looking around Dylan’s room. “I’m not sure what’s going on with him right now. I’m guessing midlife crisis, and that means I know how he feels. And I know that he doesn’t need an angsty teenager ready and willing to start a fight.”

 

“I’m not going to fight,” Dylan muttered, eyes moving on the page without actually absorbing what it said. “I don’t want to. I just…” he shook his head, “I don’t know.”

 

“I can’t deal with two people in this house unwilling to admit their problems,” Dean said, reaching out to shake Dylan’s leg gently. “You miss Danny, you haven’t talked to him in a couple of days and you’re taking it out on us.”

 

“Have you ever considered the fact that maybe it’s your fault?” Dylan asked, dropping his book.

 

Dean sighed. “Dylan…you’ve known about me and Sam for four years. You don’t bring it up. Why start now?” he asked.

 

“I had a lot more on my mind before now,” Dylan explained. “Without Danny around, I’m kind of stuck in this house a lot.”

 

Dean shook his head, bringing his hand up to his mouth. “How was spending the summer with Bobby? Did you have fun?”

 

Dylan nodded. “Yeah, it was cool.”

 

“Do you wanna go back?” Dean asked. “‘Cause I mean…if you don’t wanna be around us right now, if you need more time, I’m sure we can talk to Bobby about it. He wouldn’t mind-- okay, he might complain about it for awhile but he wouldn’t actually mind. How’s that sound to you?”

 

“You want to send me away,” Dylan said flatly. “Again. I’m allowed to not agree with incest, Dad!”

 

“I know that, Dylan,” Dean said quietly. “I know that. So does Sam. But we’re your parents, right? And if you’re not comfortable with us, with…that, then we should give you that time. If you want it, if you need it, you can tell us, you know. We just want what’s best for you.”

 

Dylan sighed and settled against the wall, shaking his head. “Well, thanks, Dad. I guess. For this great talk.”

 

“Whatever,” Dean muttered, standing up, leaning down to kiss Dylan’s forehead. “Goodnight, Dyl.”

 

Dylan cleared his throat and nodded, looking away from Dean. “Night.”

 

Dean sighed and pulled the bedroom door closed behind him, making his way down the hallway. He had to grin when King Chuck’s head lifted up off the floor, watching Dean go by. “You be good, Chucky. I’m going to bed.” He knelt down. “You wanna give Daddy a kiss?” he asked, petting the dog. “Yes you do, yes you do.” He growled softly and stuck his tongue out, looking up when he heard Sam clear his throat. “Oh, hi Sam.”

 

Sam smiled, reaching out to Dean. “How’s Dylan?” he asked, leading Dean back into their bedroom.

 

“Not well,” Dean admitted, dropping his eyes. “He uh…I don’t know. I don’t think he’s comfortable around us anymore. But I told him that if he needs to get away for awhile--”

 

“What?” Sam asked, looking back at him. “What do you mean, ‘get away’? He’s sixteen, where exactly would he be going?”

 

“Bobby’s?” Dean replied quietly, sitting down on the bed. “Maybe? If Bobby would let him go back and if Dylan wanted to go.” He scratched at his cheek and pulled at the sheets, climbing into the bed. “Can we just talk about this later? I’m tired.”

 

Sam nodded and climbed in alongside Dean, an arm settling over Dean’s chest. “I’m sorry that I made you fall in love with me,” he whispered, closing his eyes.

 

Dean’s eyes dropped and he reached out, running his fingers gently through Sam’s hair. “Don’t ever say that, Sammy. I’m happy that I love you. And you didn’t make me do anything.”

 

“All the problems it’s caused,” Sam pointed out. “It has to be somebody’s fault, doesn’t it?” 

 

“Fine,” Dean said, “then it’s mine. I’ll take responsibility. I’m the older brother.” He kissed the top of Sam’s head, rubbing his arm gently. “I love you, Sam,” he said quietly.

 

Sam nodded slowly, rubbing his cheek against Dean’s chest. “Love you too,” he breathed, fingers curling into Dean’s shirt. 

 

Dylan sat up and grabbed onto his phone, running his fingers over the buttons. He quickly dialled Danny’s number before he could talk himself out of it, listening to it ring. 

 

“Hello?” Todd asked, picking up the cordless. 

 

Dylan let out a deep breath, picking at his bed sheets. “Uh, hi…Todd.”

 

“Hi Dylan,” Todd said, “what’s up?”

 

Dylan shook his head. “N-- nothing much. Just wondering if Danny was around.”

 

“Nope,” Todd replied. “He is at the library, he has a paper due tomorrow.”

 

“Oh,” Dylan said flatly, “okay then. Um…can you let him know that I called?”

 

“Of course,” Todd assured him. “You want him to call late tonight or just wait till tomorrow?”

 

Dylan shrugged, pushing himself up off the bed. “Um, whatever he wants. I’ll be in bed around midnight, so…I’ll talk to you later, okay Todd?”

 

“Okay, Dylan,” Todd said softly. “Bye.”

 

Dylan took the phone away from his ear and turned it off, dropping it back down onto his bed. He groaned loudly and rubbed at his face, pacing around his room. “Great,” he muttered, shaking his head. He sighed and dropped down onto the floor, legs curling beneath him. His fingers dug into the carpet and he closed his eyes, focusing for a quick moment, hearing his book drop beside him. He reached out and opened it, awkwardly pushing himself up, starting to read.

 

* * * *

 

Dean grabbed his sneakers, pulling one on, hopping back into the bedroom as he tried to get the other on. “Sam!” he yelled, stumbling a little as he finally yanked it on. He walked into the bedroom, sighing when he realized that Sam was still in bed. “You’re not going to work,” he said flatly.

 

Sam yawned loudly, shaking his head. “Sorry,” he said softly. “I’m just not feeling very well.”

 

Dean walked further into the room, sitting down on the bed. “Are you sick?” he asked.

 

Sam shook his head. “Not really, no, I just…wanna take a day off. Just tired.” He weakly smiled up at him. “Drive Dyl to school?”

 

“Sure thing,” Dean smiled, leaning down to give Sam a kiss. “Man Sam, I feel so crappy going to work when you’re staying home. When’s my day off?”

 

Sam smiled and shrugged. “So don’t go to work. Drive Dylan to school and come home, lay in bed with me. We can sleep for the rest of the day.”

 

“You have no idea how awesome that sounds,” Dean said quietly, looking back when he heard Dylan walking up from his room, “but I really gotta go, Sam. You be good today, okay?” 

 

Sam nodded eagerly and shifted under the sheets and reached out, wrapping his arms around one of their bigger pillows. “You too.”

 

Dean pushed himself up and smiled back at Sam as he walked out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him. He looked around, realizing that Dylan was already out of the house. He grabbed the car keys and stepped out of the house, seeing Dylan in the car, knees up against the dashboard. “All ready for school, huh?” he asked, pulling open the door.

 

“What?” Dylan asked, looking up.

 

“‘Cause you’re…the car…no?” Dean shook his head, sticking the keys in the ignition. “Okay. Did you eat breakfast?”

 

“I’m fine,” Dylan said, going back to his book. “I don’t need a drive home today.”

 

“And why is that?” Dean asked.

 

“Me and Nell are going to the library,” Dylan explained, “and he’s gonna drive me home.”

 

“I’ll call Sam and let him know,” Dean nodded. “Should he make supper for you?”

 

“If he wants,” Dylan replied. “I’ll be home before then.”

 

“Then he’ll make you supper,” Dean said. “He wants to.” He glanced over at Dylan. “So uh, what are you two doing at the library?”

 

“Some thing for law,” Dylan replied. “Have to read a bunch of newspapers and stuff.”

 

“This Nell guy smart or something?” Dean asked.

 

Dylan shrugged. “I don’t know, he’s nice enough, I guess. He’s one of Danny’s friends.”

 

Dean nodded, glancing back over at Dylan. “Oh yeah? How’s he know him?”

 

“Nell played soccer with him,” Dylan answered. 

 

“That’s cool,” Dean said. “So uh, did ya get a hold of the fiancé last night?” he asked.

 

Dylan rolled his eyes and closed his book, reaching over to set it on the dashboard. “Could you not call him that please?”

 

“Uh, sure,” Dean agreed, “if you don’t want me to. Did ya get a hold of Danny?”

 

Dylan shook his head. “He was working on a paper or something like that, at the library.” He wrapped an arm around his knees, sinking down further in his seat, watching out the window. “I think I miss him,” he said so softly and quickly that Dean almost mistook it for a sigh.

 

Dean nodded understandingly, reaching over to pat Dylan’s knee. “I think that’s okay. And it’s to be expected.” He moved his hand grasped onto Dylan’s hand, squeezing it gently. He let go and glanced down at Danny’s school ring. “Took me more than a couple months to get over Sam leaving.”

 

“I don’t care about Sam leaving,” Dylan muttered, jerking away from Dean, pressed as close to the door as he could get. 

 

Dean snorted loudly, fingers flexing around the steering wheel. “Oh, he’s Sam now, huh?”

 

“Why do you have to keep bothering me?” Dylan snapped, looking over at Dean. “You don’t know what I’m going through so just shut up for once, okay?”

 

Dean rolled his eyes and sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you these days, Dylan. But I want it out. Now.”

 

Dylan nodded slowly, swallowing hard and his conscious finally kicked in, a feeling of guilt beginning in the pit of his stomach. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, turning back to the window.

 

* * * *

 

“Did he at least have fun with you?” Sam asked quietly, pushing his hair away from his eyes. 

 

“Sam, I thought me and Dean and you talked about this already,” Bobby pointed out, flipping through a book in front of him. 

 

Sam nodded and pushed himself up on the bed, shifting his phone to the other ear. “Yeah, I know, Bobby, but-- but after Dean suggested letting Dylan go back, until he’s comfortable with us…twelve years after Dad found out he still wasn’t comfortable with us.”

 

“What the heck makes you two so sure I’d take him again?” Bobby asked gruffly. 

 

Sam smiled faintly, moving up on his pillows, settling in. “Because you love him.”

 

Bobby groaned softly, leaning back in his chair. “When the hell’d I say that?”

 

“You must’ve forgotten, old man,” Sam joked. “Bobby, I’m not asking you to clean the room out again. But when he was there, did he mention us? Or Danny? You two were together twenty-four seven, what did you talk about?”

 

“For the first couple days, nothing,” Bobby admitted. “He would talk, but not about anything. I cracked him though, found a couple old pictures.”

 

“Did he ever com-- talk about us?” Sam asked. “Because he went away for a month and then he came back and wasn’t happy anymore. And he doesn’t like us anymore either.”

 

“I don’t know,” Bobby replied, “but he never said anything about it to me. He’s a good kid. Talked about school and his boyfriend and John. If he has a problem with you now it has nothing to do with me.”

 

Sam sighed, switching ears again. “If he wanted to go back…would you take him?”

 

“Are you kicking him out?” Bobby asked.

 

“No!” Sam exclaimed. He sighed again, shaking his head. “I’m not kicking him out. I want him to have a place to go if he decides to leave.”

 

“He can’t live with his boyfriend?” Bobby asked. “From what I hear, he might like that a helluva lot better.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah, he might, but I wouldn’t. Neither would Dean. I’d rather have him be with family--”

 

“I’m not family,” Bobby interrupted.

 

“And somebody who could protect him,” Sam continued. “Fine. Just-- just think about Bobby, okay? Please? So if we have to call you in the middle of the night sometime you’ll have an answer.”

 

“Be safe, Sam,” Bobby said.

 

“Take care, Bobby,” Sam said, bringing the phone away from his ear, turning it off. He reached over and dropped it down onto the nightstand, lying back down on the bed. He yawned softly and shifted on the mattress, rubbing his eyes. “Christ,” he muttered, shaking his head.

 

* * * *

 

Dean patted his pockets as he pushed open the exit, sighing in relief. He walked a few feet away from the door, pulling the package out of his jeans. “Sammy’d fuckin’ kill me,” he muttered, pulling out his lighter. He swallowed hard and held the cigarette up as he opened the lighter, inhaling deeply once it was light. “Christ,” he breathed, smoke leaving his mouth. He slipped his lighter back into his pocket and nodded to himself, taking another drag. 

 

The wind picked up and Dean could hear a car alarm begin to go off in the distance. He blew out a smoke ring, humming AC/DC. He felt something brush against his neck and he quickly turned around, frowning. He brought his hand up, rubbing his neck. He looked around, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. He walked away from the door a few feet more and sat down on a small patch of grass, crossing his legs. “You’re only young but you’re gonna die,” he sang softly, picking at the grass. He looked up, squinting in the bright sun and brought the cigarette up again, inhaling. 

 

A chill ran down Dean’s spine and he quickly glanced back, just before he was knocked over, flat against the ground. The black smoke swirled in front of him before funneling forward, pushing Dean’s mouth open. Dean gagged and tried to scream as it pushed its way in further, eventually disappearing completely into him. Dean laid there, body stunned for a moment before his eyes slowly opened, pitch black. He smirked and sat up, shaking his head gently. He laughed softly as he pushed himself up, wiping dirt and grass off of his jeans. Taking one last drag, Dean walked over to the door, pulling it open before dropping his cigarette, stomping it into the concrete. He walked into the store, cracking his neck gently as he walked back over to the counter, grabbing his jacket and his car keys. 

 

* * * *

 

Dylan nodded back at Zoë, following Nell out of the school. “Where’d you park?” he asked, pulling his backpack further up on his shoulder, trying to keep up with Nell’s long strides. Nell nodded towards the back of the parking lot and Dylan sighed, shoving a hand into his hoodie. “I gotta make it home before supper. I didn’t exactly tell my mom I wasn’t coming home.”

 

“Whatever,” Nell muttered, glancing back at Dylan. “It won’t take long.” He walked over to his car and unlocked the door, climbing in. He reached over and unlocked Dylan’s door, pushing it open for him. 

 

“Thanks,” Dylan said, climbing in. He tossed his backpack into the back and pulled the door closed, pulling on his seatbelt. “So, uh…” he glanced over at Nell as he began pulling out of the parking space, “um--”

 

“I don’t do good with awkward small talk,” Nell interrupted, looking over at Dylan. 

 

“So let’s make it not awkward,” Dylan suggested, smiling feebly. “Playing soccer again this year?”

 

“Sure thing,” Nell nodded, reaching down to turn on the radio. “You play something too, right?”

 

Dylan nodded and sank down in his seat, silently cursing Mr Hoffs for putting them together. “Football,” he said flatly, watching out the window.

 

* * * *

 

Dean toed off his sneakers and walked quietly into the house, looking around. “Dylan?” he called softly, glancing into the living room, before turning the corner. He smiled and knocked on the door, before pushing it open, seeing Sam on the bed. “Hi, Sam,” he said, closing the door behind him.

 

“Hi,” Sam said, glancing over. “You’re home early. What’s going on?”

 

Dean shook his head slowly, walking over to the bed, sitting down on the edge of the mattress. “Where’s Dylan?” he asked, reaching out to brush Sam’s hair from his forehead.

 

Sam shook his head. “I’m not sure really. He’s not home yet.”

 

“Oh,” Dean said, frowning. His tongue came out to wet his lips and he smiled, eyes moving over Sam’s long body. “How are you?” he asked, reaching out for Sam again.

 

Sam glanced down at Dean’s hand on his chest, giving Dean a quick smile. “Fine. Feeling better.”

 

“That’s always good,” Dean nodded, bringing one of his legs up onto the bed. “You look good too.”

 

Sam chuckled and sniffed the air, frowning at Dean. “You smell like smoke.”

 

Dean shrugged, picking at his shirt. “Some…person was smoking today. Had to get them to stop,” he explained. 

 

“Oh,” Sam nodded, sitting up. “So how come you’re home so early?”

 

“I was looking for Dylan,” Dean replied. “But he’s not here.”

 

Sam shook his head. “No, he isn’t. You can try his phone, I guess. I wasn’t too worried, but if you don’t know where he is either then--”

 

Dean snapped his fingers, shaking his head. “Uh, no. I just remembered. He’s studying. At the library. He’ll be home soon.”

 

“Good to know,” Sam murmured, studying Dean carefully. “Are you sure you’re feeling fine?”

 

Dean grinned, baring his teeth, nodding eagerly. “Peachy.”

 

Sam snorted and stood up, walking over to the dresser. “Peachy,” he echoed, pulling out a long-sleeved shirt. 

 

Dean pushed himself up off the bed and walked over to Sam, wrapping his arms around him, nipping at Sam’s neck. 

 

Sam rolled his shoulders and tried to shrug Dean off of him. “Dean, I’m not really in the mood right now. Maybe later on tonight.”

 

“Gorgeous,” Dean murmured, licking at Sam’s skin, inhaling deeply, “just like they said.”

 

Sam jerked and looked back at Dean, pushing him off of him. “Just like who said?” he asked, turning around.

 

Dean smiled and licked his lips again, moving against Sam, pressing him up against the dresser. “Everybody,” he replied, moving his hands up and down Sam’s sides. “All of them.”

 

Sam swallowed hard, trying to shove Dean off of him. “All of who?” he demanded, feeling Dean’s hands on his wrists, holding him tightly against the dresser. “Dean?” he asked.

 

Dean lifted his head, meeting Sam’s eyes, before his flashed black. “Not exactly,” he smirked.

 

“Shit,” Sam said, trying to yank his wrists out of Dean’s grip. “Let go of me!” he yelled, feeling Dean press up against him even harder, a heavy weight on his chest.

 

“Shh,” Dean whispered, leaning up to lick at Sam’s bottom lip, Sam shuddering and jerking beneath him. “Just tell me where Dylan is.”

 

“I don’t know!” Sam exclaimed. “And even if I did, I would never let you touch my son.” He whimpered as Dean’s hands tightened even more and he could swear he felt something crack beneath his skin. He cried out in pain, trying to shove Dean away. “E-- ego redimio vos ex vulnero--” he was cut off by Dean’s fist against his face and he fell to the floor, Dean finally letting go. 

 

“Why are you even trying?” Dean asked, crouching down. “You know you can’t win. Just give me Dylan.”

 

Sam stared at Dean for a moment before spitting in his face. “Meus filius,” he continued, voice shaky. “Ego redimio vos ex recidivus ex Abyssus.”

 

Dean punched him again, smiling down at him when Sam’s noise began to bleed. “Sixteen years to the day. Been a long wait, huh? Did ya miss us?”

 

Sam wiped at his face, smearing blood before pushing himself up with his good hand. “Leave us alone. Please. Dylan never did anything to you. He’s my son, that’s not his fault.”

 

Dean stood up slowly and he reached out, shoving Sam hard against the wall with a simple push. “Shut up, Sam. For once. And just tell me where he is.”

 

Sam shook his head. “Fuck you!” he yelled, moving away from the wall, stumbling towards the door. 

 

Dean turned and watched Sam pull open the door, rolling his lips into his mouth. “Where ya gonna go, Sam? Where are you going to go that I can’t find you? Small house. Small town. Small world.”

 

Sam whimpered and wiped at his nose again, pain radiating from his wrist. “Quod exsisto sent tenus Abyssus. Operor non reverto.” He looked back to see Dean finally following him out of the bedroom and he stumbled a little.

 

“Run, Sam,” Dean teased, walking after him. “Run down to Dylan’s bedroom. Like I won’t find you.” He gasped a little and rubbed at his temples, eyes black again. “This is fun, huh? After all, you three have avoided demons for so long…takes ya back, huh?”

 

Sam straightened up, mouth trembling. “What do you want?”

 

“Dylan,” Dean replied. “And your head. In either order. But since Dylan’s not here,” he looked around the house, “guess which one is coming first. He won’t even realize I’m not his father until it’s too late.” He laughed. “Funny, considering Dean’s not actually his father to begin with.”

 

“Yes, he is,” Sam insisted, backing slowly down the hallway. “What are you going to do to Dylan?”

 

Dean shrugged, cocking his head to the side. “I’ll probably kill him eventually. But if he looks anything like the rest of his family…” he studied Sam carefully, “maybe I’ll have a little fun with him first.”

 

Sam swallowed hard, reaching back blindly for the door. “Nunquam reverto,” he continued. “Igneus intus vorago--”

 

“I’m not listening!” Dean yelled, raising his hands to cover his ears. “C’mon Sam, you have got to do better than this. Do you know how many of those words you’ve mispronounced? Out of practice, huh? I can hardly wait to see what Dylan tries.” He snorted, laughing.

 

Sam backed into Dylan’s bedroom, stepping on Dylan’s clothes, feet slipping out from underneath him, sending him to the floor. “God,” he whined, reaching behind him to rub at his back and ass. 

 

“Death by dirty laundry,” Dean smiled, leaning against the doorframe. “Come on Sam, I’ll give you one last try. What else do ya got?”

 

“Sae abyssus incendia,” Sam said angrily, reaching out for Dylan’s bed, pulling himself up, “motherfucker.”

 

“And that’s Latin for what, exactly?” Dean asked, dropping down to his knees, crawling over to Sam. “You are gorgeous,” he said, reaching out to cup Sam’s bloody cheek, “maybe I’ll have my fun with you first.” He reached out, peeling Sam’s fingers off of Dylan’s bed, pushing him down against the floor, straddling his hips. “Dean ever force this on you?” he asked, leaning down, breathing heavily. “Maybe when you were kids? There has to be some reason that you’re fucking your brother. It is kind of kinky though.” He leaned down, licking some of the blood off of Sam’s face. 

 

Sam squeezed his eyes shut and tilted his head back, starting to cry softly. “Please, God,” he muttered.

 

“Does it really look like God’s all that interested in you right now?” Dean asked, smearing his thumb across Sam’s lips. “‘Cause from where I’m sitting,” he ground his hips down against Sam’s, “which is a pretty nice seat, I’ve gotta say, I think he’s got better things to do.”

 

“God,” Sam muttered again, “vos mos subsisto pro infinitio.”

 

Dean bit down on Sam’s lips, blood rising to the surface. “What do you say, Sam?” he asked, reaching down to begin undoing his belt. “You gonna quiet down and actually let me enjoy this?”

 

Sam tried to shove Dean off of him, but Dean shoved Sam back, pressing his hands into his shoulders. “I would rather die then let you fuck me,” he gritted angrily, “you demonic son of a bitch.”

 

“Good,” Dean nodded, “but that’s the second part of the plan.” He moved one hand to squeeze Sam’s jaw. “You’re getting ahead of me, Sammy. So shh, ‘cause,” he leaned down, mouth by Sam’s ear, “it’s kind of hard to get it up when you’re chatty,” he whispered, biting Sam’s cheek.

 

Tears spilled down Sam’s cheeks and he just closed his eyes, feeling Dean’s hands working at his waistband. 

 

* * * *

 

Dylan sighed loudly and shook his head, kicking off his sneakers. “Mom!” he called. “I’m home!” He walked over to the dining table, dropping his backpack down on it. “Sorry that I didn’t call,” he continued on flatly, looking up when he realized that Sam hadn’t replied yet. “I was at the library if that helps.” He looked around, shaking his head. “Whatever,” he muttered, picking his backpack up, walking down towards his bedroom. 

 

Sam whined softly, curling up on the floor, hearing footsteps coming down the hall. “Please, please, please, God,” he muttered, “let him kill me.”

 

Dylan pushed open his bedroom door, dropping his backpack in shock. “Mom?” he asked, stunned for a moment before hurrying over. “Mom, what happened? Who did this to you? Are you okay?”

 

Sam struggled to lift his head, eyes fluttering. “Dyl-- Dylan,” he began, voice trembling, “you have to go.”

 

“Why?” Dylan asked, studying Sam, seeing the bruises and bite marks and blood. “Mom, what’s going on?”

 

“He’s still here,” Sam breathed, struggling to push himself up.

 

“Who?” Dylan demanded. “Mom, who?”

 

Dean cleared his throat, leaning against the doorframe. “Dylan, right?” he asked.

 

Dylan turned around quickly, standing up. “Dad?” he asked, glancing down at Sam. “What did you do?”

 

Dean stepped into the room, eyes turning black. “Sam and I just had a little fun. Test driving the Winchesters.” He cocked an eyebrow, eyes running down and up Dylan’s body. “You wanna have a little fun with Daddy?”

 

Dylan looked down at Sam before trying to make a run for it, making it only a couple of steps before Dean grabbed onto his arm, yanking him in.

 

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Dean muttered, shaking Dylan a couple of times before shoving him away. “You’re a little brat, aren’t ya?”

 

Dylan shook his head. “N-- no. I’m not.”

 

Dean smiled. “Sam’s a brat. I’m guessing you are too. I’m right, right?”

 

“Dylan, just run,” Sam pleaded. 

 

“I’m not leaving you!” Dylan exclaimed. “Mom, get up! Fight him!”

 

Dean glanced back at Sam, laughing. “Right. I don’t see that happening anytime soon.” He turned back to Dylan. “Okay kid. How do you wanna do this?”

 

“I’m not doing anything with you,” Dylan muttered, edging his way towards the door. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

 

“You and Dean sure raised a winner here,” Dean said, looking down at Sam. “Funny. Of course--” he glanced back when Dylan started off down the hallway. “Get back here!” he yelled, chasing after him.

 

Dylan skidded a little as he turned out of the hallway, running through the living room.

 

“Little bastard!” Dean yelled, reaching out, grabbing onto Dylan’s shirt, yanking him back. 

 

Dylan cried out as he fell to the ground, trying to push himself back up.

 

Dean dropped down to his knees and rolled Dylan over, bringing his fist back, punching Dylan. “You fucking idiot,” he muttered, “don’t try and run from me. Your mom made that mistake and you saw what I did to him.”

 

Dylan closed his eyes, thinking quickly. “Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus,” he began, Bobby’s teachings coming through.

 

Dean laughed loudly, throwing his head back. “Again with the exorcisms! Your family never quits.” He hit Dylan again, pulling his fist back, punching him in the nose. 

 

Dylan sniffled, feeling blood running down from his nose, trying not to cry. “Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii.” He watched Dean cringe and couldn’t help but smile a little. “Omnis legio, omnis congregatio, et secta diabolica,” he continued, trying to shove Dean off of him.

 

“No way,” Dean snapped, shaking his head quickly. “I swear kid, just give it up.” He rubbed at his eyes with one hand and wrapped the fingers on his other hand around Dylan’s throat.

 

Dylan gasped loudly, struggling under Dean. “Perditionis venenum propinare,” he continued, voice quiet, and he began to cry as he could feel his breath being squeezed out of him.

 

Dean leaned down, kissing Dylan quickly, smiling at him. “Little bastard,” he muttered against Dylan's mouth, licking his lips. 

 

Dylan cried out loudly, shaking his head, trying to get out of Dean’s grip, even just a little. “Vade, satana, inventor et magister omnis fallacia.” He took as much of a breath as he could when Dean’s grip loosened just enough.

 

“God!” Dean cried out in pain. “You motherfucking little bastard!” he yelled.

 

“Hostis humanae salutis!” Dylan gritted, finally managing to shove a weakened Dean off of him. He panted loudly, throwing his legs over Dean’s hips. He brought his fist back, punching Dean hard. “Te rogamus audi dominicos sancta ecclesiae,” he continued, punching Dean again, bringing his hand back to shake it quickly.

 

“I am going to kill you!” Dean exclaimed, pushing at Dean.

 

Dylan took another deep breath, jaw trembling. “Terogamus audi nos,” he finished proudly, jumping when the demon began pouring out of Dean’s mouth. He shoved himself off of him, pushing himself up. 

 

Dean’s body twitched weakly and his hand moved slowly up to his face, wiping at the blood. 

 

Dylan stood still for a moment, watching Dean carefully. He swallowed hard and walked back over to him, dropping down to his knees. “Christo,” he said quietly, watching Dean’s eyes.

 

“Please, Dylan,” Dean pleaded, looking up at him. “Please.”

 

Dylan swallowed again, wiping at the blood on his face, before bringing his fist back, punching Dean again, knocking him out.

 

* * * *

 

“Okay, Mom,” Dylan said quietly, wrapping an arm around Sam’s waist, helping him out of the pink-tinged bathwater, “it’s okay.”

 

Sam nodded slowly, whimpering as he reached out for the towel. “O-- okay,” he agreed, voice shaking. “Where’s Dean?” he asked, looking around.

 

“I’m not sure,” Dylan admitted, looking away as Sam wrapped his towel around his waist. “Living room. He’s not going to hurt you, Mom.”

 

Sam shook his head, reaching out for Dylan. “B-- but you, your-- your nose. Are you okay, baby?” he asked, running his trembling fingers through Dylan’s hair.

 

“I’m fine, Mom,” Dylan assured him, “I’m okay. It’s not broken.”

 

Sam sighed in relief and swallowed hard. “Good.” He grabbed onto another towel and stepped back, waiting for Dylan to open the door to the master bedroom. 

 

“Are you okay to get dressed?” Dylan asked, hovering by the door.

 

Sam nodded and walked over to the dresser, weakly pulling the drawers open.

 

“Did he…” Dylan cleared his throat, looking away, “he did what I think he did, didn’t he?”

 

Sam nodded dumbly, sniffling loudly. “Yeah,” he admitted, glancing over at Dylan. “Stay out of your room, okay? I’ll clean it later.”

 

“You’ll go to bed,” Dylan said, walking over to Sam. “Sleep. I’ll make sure Dad stays away from you.” He leaned up, kissing Sam’s cheek, rubbing his arm gently. “I’ll check on you in awhile, okay?”

 

“Kay,” Sam breathed, watching Dylan open the door, walking out of the room.

 

Dylan walked slowly over to the couch, watching Dean with the cold compress pressed to his face. “How are you, Dad?” he asked, sitting down gingerly on the couch.

 

Dean looked over at Dylan, sniffling softly. “Yeah,” he breathed, removing the cold compress. “How’s your mom?”

 

“He’s going to bed,” Dylan replied. “I don’t-- I’m not sure that he wants to see you right now.”

 

Dean nodded and wiped at his lips, tears filling his eyes. “That wasn’t me, Dylan. It wasn’t. I would never do that to either of you.”

 

“I know,” Dylan nodded, “I know.”

 

Dean pressed his fingers to his cheek, wincing. “Christ kid, you got an arm on ya.”

 

Dylan nodded again. “Football. Bobby,” he explained, dropping his eyes. 

 

“Dylan, I’m so sorry,” Dean said, looking over at him. “I really am. I should’ve-- I should’ve been able to stop it, or-- or--” his voice broke and he brought his legs up onto the couch, crying softly. “I’m so sorry.”

 

Dylan’s eyes filled with tears and he shook his head, moving over on the couch, wrapping his arms around Dean’s shoulders, pulling him in gently. “It wasn’t your fault,” he assured him softly. “Daddy, you were possessed. That wasn’t you.”

 

Dean sniffled and nodded. “You-- I could see it all happening. You learned that Latin really well.”

 

“Thanks,” Dylan said, resting against Dean’s shoulder. “I’ll make sure that Mom’s okay, okay? I’ll make sure that he--”

 

“Doesn’t hate me?” Dean offered, sniffling again.

 

“He doesn’t hate you,” Dylan assured him. “He knows that it wasn’t you. He has to. He knew before I did. He’s-- he just needs some time, Dad. And I might have to take him to the hospital later on, since you-- he-- it…did that to him.”

 

Dean looked away from Dylan, shoulders shaking as he began to sob. “I can’t believe that I did that to him,” he cried, wrapping his arms around his knees. “I should’ve…I hurt him. I hurt him so bad. He’s going to leave me, isn’t he? And you hated me before, you’ve been mad at us ever since you came back and-- and I’m not really your dad and--” he looked up at Dylan. “There’s nothing to keep either of you here, anymore.”

 

Dylan closed his eyes and kissed Dean’s forehead, sniffling. “That’s not true, Dad,” he whispered. “And I’m not leaving.” He pulled back. “Not even to spend time with Bobby.”

 

Dean looked up at Dylan, eyes wide. “Are you sure? I know that this makes you uncomfortable and--”

 

“I’m sure,” Dylan interrupted, slowly standing up. “Now, come on, you should probably have a bath too.” He leaned down and helped Dean off the couch, arm around Dean’s waist.

 

* * * *

 

“He doesn’t wanna leave,” Dean said softly, gently running his fingers through Sam’s hair. Sam nodded silently, shifting on the couch. “He wants to stay. He doesn’t hate us.”

 

“Yeah,” Sam breathed, sniffling quietly. “That’s nice.” He lifted his head off of Dean’s thigh, trying to look around. “Is he still in his room?”

 

“Yeah,” Dean replied, moving his hand to rub Sam’s back comfortingly. “Still cleaning, I think.”

 

Sam squeezed his eyes shut and sniffled again, tears filling his eyes. “I told him I’d do it.”

 

“So did I,” Dean admitted quietly. He took a deep breath, butterflies in his stomach. “You need another painkiller, Sam?” he asked finally, dropping his eyes in shame.

 

“I’m okay,” Sam assured him. “Just…stiff.” He shifted on cue and looked up at Dean, trying weakly to smile. “Are we gonna talk about it?” he asked.

 

Dean automatically shook his head before he took a deep breath, and nodded. “Yeah. Sometime. Not yet. I’m not ready.”

 

“I don’t hate you,” Sam said, awkwardly pushing himself up, swollen wrist in a sling. “Dylan said you thought I did. I don’t. It didn’t take long to figure out that it wasn’t you. You weren’t you. It was different.”

 

“Sammy, I would’ve never hurt you like that,” Dean said quickly, looking at Sam. “Never. You have to believe me. I-- I was so sick, watching me--”

 

“Him,” Sam corrected. “It wasn’t you, Dean. And I know that. If it happened to me, would you blame me?”

 

Dean shook his head. “Never,” he said quietly.

 

Sam swallowed hard and looked around the living room, before finally curling up to Dean’s chest, settling against him. “I love you, Dean.”

 

Dean let out a breath and nodded, gingerly wrapping his arm around Sam. He kissed the top of Sam’s head, inhaling deeply. “Thank God. ‘Cause I really love you, Sam.” His voice broke and he began to cry softly, tears running down his cheeks. “And I’ve never been more sorry in my life.”

 

Sam nodded and closed his eyes, yawning softly. “Don’t be sorry,” he said quietly, “it wasn’t your fault. It was…”

 

“It was my fault,” Dylan said, walking up the hallway. “That demon was there for me. If it wasn’t for me, none of this would’ve happened. And I’m sorry.”

 

Dean looked back and Sam lifted his head, both watching Dylan. “It wasn’t your fault,” Sam said quickly. “Never your fault. Don’t ever blame yourself for this, Dylan.”

 

Dylan dropped his eyes and walked over to the couch, sitting down at the end, away from his parents. “He wanted me, Mom. You just got in his way and Dad was just how he was going to get me.” He swallowed and wiped furiously at his mouth at the memories. He looked over at Sam and Dean, sighing sadly. “I don’t wanna leave. But if you guys wanna get rid of me…to make sure that it doesn’t happen again--”

 

“Dylan,” Dean interrupted gently, “don’t. Don’t think like that. Okay? ‘Cause we’re never getting rid of you. And if it happens again, we deal with it again. But nothing good would come of kicking you out because of this. Nothing, okay?”

 

Dylan cleared his throat softly and thought for a moment, before finally nodding. “Ye-- yeah, okay.”

 

Sam sighed sadly and reached out to Dylan, squeezing his hand gently. “It’s okay, Dylan,” he said quietly. “We’re okay. I’m okay. You’re okay. And Dean’s right, you stay here. We’re--” he glanced back at Dean, smiling at the memory, “we’re stronger as a family.”

 

Dean finally smiled and looked over at Dylan, nodding. “Stronger as a family,” he echoed.


	31. Chapter 30

Title: Look What Love Has Done - Volume 3 - Chapter 30

Pairing: Sam/Dean, OMC/OMC

Disclaimer: Not mine

Rating: NC-17 this chapter

Summary: Dylan makes great plans for spring break; Sam's still not over the effects of Dean's possession.

Author's Note: Forget volume one, forget volume two; this is volume three 

 

sixteen years, eleven months and two days old

 

“Okay, now just--” Sam shifted behind Dylan, lightly grasping onto Dylan’s wrist, “okay, now throw it forward.”

 

“Why can’t I just shoot?” Dylan asked, glancing back at Sam, who just nodded forward. He took a deep breath and let Sam pull his wrist back, throwing the knife. 

 

“Okay, better,” Sam nodded, letting go of Dylan’s hand, handing him another blade. 

 

“You might wanna try actually hitting the target,” Dean suggested, stirring his coffee, settling into his lawn chair. 

 

Sam glared over at Dean, helping Dylan pull his arm back again. “Okay, so--” he shifted Dylan’s fingers on the handle, “okay, Dyl. Go.”

 

Dylan brought his shoulders back and flicked his wrist, throwing the knife.

 

“Thank God he knows how to use a gun,” Dean muttered. “Latin’s good too. Why don’t we just leave the blades to you, Sam?” he asked.

 

“You could be a bit more supportive, Dean,” Sam said, walking over to Dean to lightly smack the side of his head. “Be good,” he said, leaning down.

 

Dean grinned at Sam, leaning up to give him a kiss. “I’m trying Sammy, but this sort of came naturally to us, didn’t it?”

 

“We had a better teacher,” Sam pointed out, kissing Dean’s cheek. “Now okay Dylan, go get those. Throw ‘em again.” He looked around, dropping down onto the grass beside Dean. “He’s getting better.”

 

Dean raised an eyebrow and looked down at Sam. “I thought that Bobby covered all of this months ago. Three-and-a-half weeks there, what the hell were they doing?” he demanded.

 

Dylan walked over to the target, pulling the second blade out and picking the first up off the ground. He sighed sadly and walked back a few feet, bringing one of the blades up again. 

 

Sam looked over at Dylan, rolling his lips into his mouth. “Just don’t stress yourself out, Dyl. Just throw it the way that feels the best.” He studied Dylan, smiling faintly when the blade entered the target. “See, Dean?”

 

“I see our son getting killed if he ever had to fight something with a knife,” Dean said, smiling down at Sam. “Dylan, why don’t you try something else?” he asked.

 

Dylan looked over and dropped his arm back down by his side. “Like what?” he asked quietly.

 

Dean thought for a moment, before shrugging. “I don’t know. Crossbow,” he suggested.

 

Sam’s head dropped forward and he closed his eyes for a quick moment. “And who’s going to teach him that, exactly?” he asked, looking up at Dean. 

 

“I know how to use a crossbow,” Dean pointed out.

 

Sam snorted and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but not well. I know how to use bolas, but that doesn’t mean that I actually would.”

 

Dylan reached over, handing the knives back over to Sam. “Bobby worked at the Latin,” he explained, voice tiny, “and the guns. He said that those were most important. I mean, he mentioned throwing knives and-- and crossbows and…bolas? But--”

 

“It’s fine, Dylan,” Sam assured him, setting the knives down on the ground. “I don’t actually plan on you needing to hunt all that often.” He smiled up at Dylan. “Your Latin is amazing though, so maybe,” he looked over at Dean, “that’s what you should just focus on?” 

 

“If I can throw a football, I should be able to throw a knife,” Dylan said, sitting down on the grass in front of his parents.

 

“You don’t throw footballs though, Dylan,” Dean pointed out, “you catch them. Guns and Latin, guns and Latin.” He nodded a couple of times. “Maybe a crossbow. We’ll figure that out later though, okay?” Dylan nodded and all three looked up when they heard a phone ringing. 

 

“Mine’s inside,” Sam said, pushing himself up, picking up the knives.

 

Dylan patted his pockets a couple of times and pulled out his phone. “It’s mine,” he said, turning it on. “Hello?” he asked, instantly grinning. “Hi, Danny.”

 

“Ooh,” Dean grinned, “Danny.”

 

Dylan groaned softly and pushed himself up, holding his other hand up to his ear. “How are you?” he asked, walking around the backyard. “No, no, we’re just outside.” He glanced over at his parents, clearing his throat. “Throwing knives,” he replied.

 

Dean smiled and pushed himself out of his chair, following behind Sam. “Ah, puppy love. Remember it, Sam?”

 

“No,” Sam said, shaking his head. “Do you?”

 

“Nope,” Dean replied. “I was never one for puppy love. More like--”

 

“Finish that sentence and I kill you,” Sam interrupted, giving Dean a smile before pushing open the door to the porch, setting the knives down once inside. He reached out, pushing the door closed when Dean moved to open it. “After all,” he said quietly, leaning against the door, “I am very good with the throwing knives.”

 

Dean smiled and licked his lips, leaning in to give Sam a kiss. “I bet you are,” he murmured against Sam’s lips, pushing his fingers through Sam’s hair.

 

“I’ve missed you,” Dylan said finally, sitting back down on the grass. “I love you.”

 

Danny smiled, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, I know Dyl. I miss you too. That’s why I’ve got something to ask you.”

 

Dylan sighed dreamily, moving his hand to the back of his neck. “I always like when you ask me things,” he said quietly.

 

Danny chuckled, sitting forward. “Oh yeah?” he asked. “Well then, what are you wearing?”

 

Todd frowned and looked up, raising an eyebrow at Danny. “I am sitting right here; you realize that, right?”

 

“Yeah, I know,” Danny said, slightly turning away from Todd. “So?” he prompted.

 

“Uh,” Dylan looked down at his clothes, “I’m wearing whatever you want me to be wearing,” he said eventually.

 

Danny grinned again, laughing. “Sounds good to me, Dylan. So anyway, back to my actual question…spring break, you doing anything?” he asked.

 

Dylan shook his head. “No. Probably not. Why, got something in mind?”

 

“You wanna finally come up to Washington and visit me?” Danny asked.

 

Dylan’s jaw dropped a little and he froze for a moment. “Uh…uh, yeah. Yeah. I’d love to. I have to ask though, and my parents mi--”

 

“Actually, you kind of sort of don’t,” Danny replied. “I asked your parents already. They couldn’t exactly say yes for you, but you’re allowed. They’re coming with you,” he smiled when Dylan groaned softly, “but you’re coming.”

 

“That’s awesome,” Dylan said quietly, shaking his head in disbelief. “I-- I can’t believe it. It’s been months since I’ve seen you.”

 

“Months since I’ve seen you too,” Danny pointed out. “Your parents will be in the guest room…and my bed’s a king.” He swallowed, looking back at Todd. “I mean…” he cleared his throat softly. “My dad’s right here.”

 

“So since you’ve already talked to my parents about all this,” Dylan began, “do you know when I’m coming?”

 

“Actually, no,” Danny admitted. “Sometime before Monday. I think you’re flying in.”

 

Dylan laughed and shook his head. “Okay, why did you not ask me before now?”

 

“I’m not sure,” Danny replied. “But…you’re coming, right? You’ll come?”

 

“Of course I will,” Dylan said. “I can’t wait.”

 

Danny smiled. “Good. ‘Cause I can’t wait to see you.” He looked over at Todd, pushing his chair back from the table. “I love you,” he said quietly, glancing back at Todd.

 

“I love you too,” Dylan said, pushing himself up off the grass. “I have to go talk to my parents. I’ll talk to you later, okay?” He began walking back up towards the house.

 

“Okay, bye,” Danny said, turning off his phone. 

 

Dylan turned off his phone and opened the door to the porch, raising an eyebrow at his parents. “Um, okay a: you can stop that now.”

 

Dean dropped his eyes and stepped back from Sam, wiping at his mouth.

 

“And b,” Dylan continued, “why didn’t you tell me we’re going to Washington for spring break?”

 

“Ah,” Dean nodded, “he finally asked you. And I’m assuming that you said yes.”

 

Dylan nodded eagerly and stepped further into the porch, wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck quickly, before moving over to Sam. “Thank you,” he said quietly, grinning. “It means a lot.”

 

Sam nodded, squeezing Dylan’s shoulder reassuringly. “We’re flying out on Saturday. I suggest packing tomorrow after school.”

 

Dylan nodded and hugged Sam again. “I can’t even-- just thank you both, so much. I can’t wait.” He grinned and walked into the house. 

 

“Wow,” Dean said, “I think that he might be excited.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes, looking over at Dean. “Really huh, you think?” he asked, stepping into the kitchen. 

 

Dean followed after Sam, pulling the door closed behind them. “I think we better call Todd, make some plans for our wonderful week there.”

 

“Why?” Sam asked, glancing back. 

 

“You think two horny teenagers are gonna wanna spend anytime with their parents?” Dean asked, pushing himself up onto the counter. “I’m predicting eighteen hours a day spent in the bedroom.”

 

Sam smiled and opened the refrigerator, pulling out a carton of juice. “God, I hope our bedroom isn’t right beside theirs.”

 

Dean grinned, moving out of the way for Sam to grab a couple of glasses. “Awkward,” he said in a sing-song voice.

 

“Understatement,” Sam grinned, leaning in to give Dean a kiss.

 

* * * *

 

“What are you packing?” Danny asked, walking around his bedroom.

 

Dylan held the phone up to his ear with his shoulder, folding his jeans. “Just clothes, Danny.”

 

“Nothing naughty?” Danny asked, sounding a little disappointed.

 

“Well, I don’t exactly have any lingerie,” Dylan pointed out, walking back over to his dresser. “So, sorry.”

 

“This time tomorrow, you’ll be here,” Danny said, sitting down on his bed. “I can’t wait to see you.”

 

“I look pretty much the same,” Dylan smiled, grabbing a couple of shirts, “but I can’t wait to see you either.” He looked around his room, wondering if he had packed enough clothes. “What are we going to do?” he asked, grabbing a couple more t-shirts. “Other than the obvious.”

 

“There’s sort of somebody that I want you to meet,” Danny replied. “Other than that, I don’t know. I guess I’ll just show you around.”

 

“Who do you want me to meet?” Dylan asked, sitting down on his bed, fixing the clothes in his suitcase.

 

Danny smiled and shook his head. “No, it’s a surprise. Don’t worry.”

 

“I wasn’t worried,” Dylan said softly, finally holding his phone with his hand, cracking his neck a couple of times. “I’m sure it’ll be great.”

 

Danny nodded. “I sure hope so. Don’t wanna let my fiancé down.”

 

Dylan smiled and looked down at his hand, twisting the ring around his finger. “Yeah, you better not.”

 

Danny laughed. “Or what?” he teased.

 

Dylan shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. I have been practicing my throwing knives, you know.”

 

Dean cleared his throat gently, moving his hands to the hem of his shirt. “We’ll just…” he pulled off his shirt, “we’ll just take it slow, okay?” he asked, dropping his shirt down onto the floor. 

 

Sam nodded nervously, moving his hands to Dean’s bare hips. “Okay,” he agreed.

 

“I don’t have to be on top,” Dean pointed out quietly, brushing Sam’s hair away from his face. “If you’re not ready yet, Sam…”

 

Sam took a deep breath and shook his head. “No, no, I want this. I’m okay.”

 

Dean smiled reassuringly, leaning down to kiss Sam gently. “You weren’t okay a week ago,” he pointed out, meeting Sam’s eyes. “I love you, Sammy.”

 

Sam nodded again. “I love you too. And I’m fine now.” He sat up a bit, pulling at the hem of his shirt, Dean helping it off. “I hope.”

 

“It’s okay if you’re not,” Dean whispered, reaching over to the nightstand, pulling out the lube. “I’m okay if you’re not.” He cleared his throat softly, kissing Sam’s cheek. “I have no problem letting you fuck me, Sam. I like it.”

 

“But I have a problem not letting you fuck me,” Sam snapped. “It’s been five months.” He took a deep breath. “I should be ready.” He cocked an eyebrow and reached over, taking the lube from Dean, spreading his legs a little. 

 

Dean moved off of Sam, dropping down to the mattress, curling up beside him. He began kissing Sam’s arm, mouthing the skin. “Gorgeous,” he murmured.

 

Sam squeezed his eyes shut, starting to feel a little nauseous as he pushed his slicked up fingers inside himself, spreading his legs further. “Don’t call me that,” he pleaded quietly, head lolling over to look at Dean.

 

“Sorry,” Dean apologized softly, moving his mouth over Sam’s skin. 

 

Sam nodded and took a deep breath, trying to stay calm, working a third finger in. “Are you gonna wear a condom?” he asked quietly, meeting Dean’s eyes.

 

Dean pushed himself up a little. “Do you want me to wear a condom?” he asked, already reaching over to the nightstand. 

 

Sam nodded. “Please. I just-- please. I--”

 

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” Dean told him, ripping open the small package. “Are you ready?” he asked, nodding downwards.

 

Sam twisted his fingers a couple more times, spreading his legs a little more before nodding once. “Yeah,” he said, slowly pulling his fingers out.

 

“Kay,” Dean said, rolling the condom down onto himself, grabbing onto the lube. 

 

Sam took a couple deeps breath, closing his eyes, fingers curling into the comforter. 

 

Dean grasped his dick in his head and shifted between Sam’s legs, taking a deep breath before slowly starting to push in. He gasped and groaned softly, dropping his head to Sam’s chest.

 

Sam whimpered quietly, the nauseous feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. He bit down on his lip, trying not to cry out and he clutched at the sheets, trying not to push Dean off of him. 

 

Dean licked around Sam’s nipple, before closing his mouth over it, sucking and nipping gently. “Just a little more,” he breathed, propping himself up on his arms. 

 

Sam’s breath hitched and his fingers flexed, whimpering. “Please, stop,” he pleaded softly.

 

“Sam?” Dean asked, stilling his hips. “Are you okay?”

 

Sam shook his head furiously, tears filling his eyes. “Please, I can’t do this. I’m sorry, I-- I just can’t.” He shoved at Dean, crying out when Dean slipped out of him. “I’m sorry.”

 

Dean swallowed hard and sat back, letting out a deep breath. “It’s okay, Sammy,” he said quietly, reaching out for him.

 

Sam jerked away from him, standing up quickly. “No, it’s not!” he cried. “It’s not okay, stop saying that!” He sniffled loudly and dropped down onto the floor, wrapping his arms around his knees. 

 

Dylan looked up, frowning. “Uh, Danny, I have to let you go. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

 

Danny smiled. “That sounds nice. Tomorrow.”

 

“Bye,” Dylan said quickly, turning off his phone, dropping it down onto his bed. He walked quickly down the hallway and through the living room, knocking once on the bedroom door before pushing it open.

 

Sam looked up and tightened his arms around himself, resting his head on his knees. “I’m fine, Dylan,” he said quietly, glancing over at Dean, who had grabbed onto his boxers. 

 

Dylan walked over to Sam, dropping down beside him, wrapping his arms around Sam’s shoulders. “It’s okay, Mom,” he whispered.

 

“I didn’t try to hurt him,” Dean said, sitting down on the bed.

 

“I know,” Dylan said, glancing quickly over at Dean. “It’s okay, Mom, it’s okay.”

 

Sam shook his head and clutched at Dylan, sobbing quietly. “I can’t even let him touch me,” he whispered.

 

Dylan kissed Sam’s forehead, holding him tightly. “That’s not true, Mom.” He kissed Sam again. “You’re just not ready yet, okay? Dad gets that.”

 

“I get that,” Dean agreed. “Sammy, I told you that you don’t have to be ready.”

 

“See?” Dylan said to Sam, pulling back a little. “Dad knows, Mom. You’re okay, he’s not going to hurt you. Nothing’s going to hurt you.” He stood up slowly, helping Sam up and over to the bed. “Are you okay?” he asked, handing Sam his shirt. 

 

Sam nodded and pulled his shirt on, looking around for his boxers. “Yeah, he didn’t hurt me.”

 

Dylan smiled weakly and looked over at Dean. “I’ve gotta go finish packing, so if you’re okay…”

 

Sam nodded. “I’m okay,” he assured him quietly. “You can go.”

 

Dylan sighed and hugged Sam quickly before standing back, looking over at Dean sadly. “I’ll be down in my room, if you need me.” He walked over to the door, stepping out of the room before pulling it closed behind him. 

 

Dean swallowed and shifted awkwardly, glancing over at Sam. “I’m-- I can just sleep on the couch tonight, okay?”

 

Sam shook his head and stood up, walking over to the dresser, pulling out a sweater. “No, no, I want you with me. I just can’t be with you like that yet.” He pulled his sweater over his head, trying to smile over at Dean. “You wanna go out or something?”

 

“Do you?” Dean asked in surprise.

 

Sam nodded. “Yeah, I do. We can rent a movie. Or something.” He walked back over to Dean, reaching out to grasp onto his hand. “C’mon, let’s go. Get dressed, let’s go.”

 

“You sure?” Dean asked, standing up. “After that, you wanna go out?”

 

“I’m tired of being a downer,” Sam explained, “and I wanna go out with the man I love. Is that a crime?” he asked, handing Dean his jeans.

 

“Well, no, of course not,” Dean replied, “but I just made you cry.”

 

Sam dropped his eyes, nodding slowly. “Yeah, well…” he let out a deep breath, “let’s just go out, okay? Start the night over. I feel like an idiot.”

 

Dean leaned up, wrapping his arms around Sam, holding him closely. “Don’t,” he whispered, kissing Sam’s cheek, “don’t ever feel like an idiot.” He pulled back and looked Sam in the eyes. “Come on, let’s go find something interesting to do.”

 

Sam smiled and reached down, interlocking their fingers, squeezing Dean’s hand gently. “I love you,” he said quietly, pulling open the bedroom door.

 

* * * *

 

Dylan looked up at his parents nervously, taking a deep breath. “What if I look different to him? And I just don’t know it?” he asked.

 

Dean smiled and reached out, ruffling Dylan’s hair. “Got your ring?”

 

Dylan glanced down at his left hand, nodding. “Yeah,” he replied slowly, a little confused.

 

“Good,” Dean nodded, glancing back at Sam. “They’re meeting us, right?” he asked.

 

“Yes,” Sam answered, “they are. They are picking us up. We are gonna all be smooshed together in Todd’s car.”

 

“It’ll be worth it,” Dylan said, bouncing up and down impatiently, trying to spot Danny or Todd in the crowd. “I just wanna be with him.”

 

“And you will be,” Sam said, reaching out to squeeze Dylan’s shoulder gently, “you just gotta give him a second to get here, okay?”

 

Dylan nodded, stomach full of butterflies and he tried to push himself up on his tiptoes. “Wait,” he said suddenly, looking back at his parents. “Did you hear that?”

 

Sam tried not to laugh and he shook his head gently. “No, Dyl, I didn’t.”

 

“Dylan!” Danny yelled, waving his hand. “Dyl!”

 

Dylan swallowed hard and watched Danny push his way through the crowd as politely as he could, a huge grin on his face. “Oh my god,” he said softly, rushing over to Danny. “Your hair!” he exclaimed, running his fingers over Danny’s head.

 

Danny nodded and ducked his head a little. “Yeah, I figured this was a bit more collegiate.” He shook his head in disbelief, studying Dylan closely. “God, I’ve missed you,” he said quietly, before pulling Dylan in for a kiss.

 

“Nice look for him,” Dean nodded, looking up at Sam. 

 

“Yeah, it is,” Sam agreed, smiling over at Todd. “Todd,” he said, reaching out to pull him into a hug.

 

“How the hell’s it been going with you guys?” Todd asked, moving from Sam to Dean. “You two look awesome.”

 

Dean laughed and shook his head, looking back over to Danny and Dylan, clearing his throat gently. “Boys?”

 

Danny pulled back, licking once at Dylan’s lips, grinning. “I can’t wait to get you into my bed,” he murmured, kissing Dylan again.

 

Dylan leaned up, moaning softly into Danny’s mouth, trying to get used to having nothing to run his fingers through.

 

“Boys!” Dean exclaimed. “Seriously, public.” He shook his head. “Jesus.”

 

Dylan smiled up at Danny, reaching down to fix his shirt. “I was a little nervous that you weren’t going to come,” he admitted.

 

Danny shook his head. “Never. God, I’d have to be an idiot.” He reached down, sliding his hand into Dylan’s, feeling the cool metal of his school ring on Dylan’s finger. “Nice ring,” he said softly, smiling at him.

 

Dylan glanced back at Dean, who was just nodding. “Told ya!” Dean grinned. 

 

“You guys ready to get going?” Todd asked. “How was the flight? You guys wanna go straight home, or go out for supper?” He glanced down at his watch. “Late lunch.”

 

Sam smiled and picked up his bag, looking over at Dean. “I think we should go to your place. Give the boys a bit of time to…catch up with each other. Once they’re done that, maybe a later supper.”

 

“Sounds good to me,” Dean agreed, nodding. “Dyl, Danny? Can you cool down for a second?”

 

Danny nodded and wrapped his arm around Dylan’s waist, pulling him in. “Come on. It’s not that long of a drive and-- and I think that you’ll like my room.”

 

“I think that he’ll like the entire house, actually,” Todd smiled, walking over to Danny. “Why don’t you help with the bags, Danny? Be a gentlemen.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Danny muttered, moving away from Dylan, reaching down to grab Dean’s bag. “Hi Mr Winchester,” he said, looking up at Dean. “How have you been?”

 

“Just fine,” Dean nodded, walking past Danny. “Dylan, you can sit in the back…between me and Sam.”

 

* * * *

 

Dylan gasped, lifting his hips, nails digging into Danny’s chest. “Yes, yes, yes,” he chanted, grinding back down onto Danny. “Fuck,” he breathed, head dropping forward.

 

Danny wrapped his arms around Dylan’s sweaty back, holding him close as Dylan bounced gently up and down on him. “Miss me?” he asked, nipping at Dylan’s ear.

 

“God,” Dylan said, nodding eagerly, “more than anything.”

 

“Miss me in you?” Danny asked, shifting to lay Dylan back on the bed, thrusting harder into him. “‘Cause fuck Dyl, I can--” his breathed hitched, “I can tell you right now, I missed being in you.” He leaned down, kissing Dylan, wet and sloppy, tongues moving together. 

 

Dylan unlocked his ankles and brought his legs up further, making himself more open for Danny’s thrusts. “I-- I--” he whined loudly, “I need to come, Danny,” he pleaded, reaching up to drag his fingers over Danny’s cheek. 

 

Danny moved his hand down to the back of Dylan’s thigh, pushing his leg up further, driving into him harder. “Just. A. Sec.” His head went back and his eyes squeezed shut, thrusting into Dylan as hard as he could, gasping loudly when he started to come, crying out, voice breaking. He froze for a moment, before dropping down onto Dylan’s chest, thrusting weakly a couple of more times.

 

“Danny,” Dylan whined, trying to shove at Danny’s shoulders, “c’mon. Please?”

 

Danny sighed playfully and lifted his head, wetting his lip. He shifted on Dylan, pulling out of him, letting go of Dylan’s leg. “Don’t worry Dylan, I’ve got ya,” he whispered, moving down Dylan’s body, taking his dick in his hand.

 

Dean lifted his head when he heard Dylan cry out, looking over at Sam. “Christ Almighty, how times has it been now?” he asked.

 

“I don’t wanna know,” Sam muttered, shuddering as he flipped through the magazine. 

 

“I’m sure they’ll be done soon,” Todd said awkwardly, trying to smile over at them. “They’ll probably wanna shower before we go out though.”

 

“For the love of God,” Dean began, “nobody let them shower together.” He reached over, grasping onto Sam’s shirt. “Please.”

 

Sam laughed and shook Dean’s grip off of him, going back to his magazine. “They’re just making up for lost time, Dean.”

 

“They couldn’t wait until we left the house?” Dean asked. 

 

“Why?” Sam asked, lifting his head. “We don’t wait until Dylan leaves to--”

 

“Not the point,” Dean interrupted, shaking his head slowly, “not the point. I’m just saying--” he groaned and rolled his eyes, pushing himself up on the couch, banging a couple times on the wall, “do they know that we can hear them?” he yelled.

 

Todd laughed and shook his head, turning up the television just a little bit louder.

 

Dylan wrapped his arm around the back of Danny’s neck, pulling him back down for a kiss. Their lips moved together gently, his mouth opening to let Danny’s tongue push in and he sighed into the kiss, licking his lips when Danny pulled away.

 

Danny smiled and settled down between Dylan’s legs, resting his head on Dylan’s chest. “That should hold us over for a couple of hours,” he joked.

 

“At the least,” Dylan smiled, running his fingers over the top of Danny’s head. “I still can’t believe…your hair.”

 

“You never did say whether you liked it or not,” Danny said, pushing himself up a little.

 

“It’s just,” Dylan thought for a moment, “you’ve always had your curls. But I still think that you look hot,” he assured him quietly. 

 

Danny smiled and kissed Dylan again. “I think our parents are probably expecting us to make an appearance.”

 

Dylan groaned and shook his head, holding Danny close. “I don’t wanna leave this bed for the rest of the week.” 

 

“They sound like they’re done,” Dean said, pushing himself up off the couch. He walked down to Danny’s bedroom, knocking loudly on the door, causing Dylan and Danny to jump. “Come on losers, we’re going out for supper!”

 

* * * *

 

“So Todd, why no lady friends?” Dean asked, dipping his fries into some ketchup. “Or uh, I mean, guy friends would be good too.”

 

Danny smiled and took a drink of his soda, settling in closer to Dylan. “Dad’s sworn off lady friends.”

 

“I have not,” Todd said, looking over at Danny. “I just…don’t see the point.”

 

“Todd, the entire time we’ve known you,” Dean began, “we’ve never seen you with a woman.”

 

Todd nodded. “Yeah, I know. I was there. But I’m happy being single. And Danny’s happy with me being single.”

 

“I never said that,” Danny whispered to Dylan. “He just uses me as an excuse.” He looked over at Todd, giving him a smile. “Dad, you’re allowed to date.”

 

“Well, I know that,” Todd said, “but maybe I just don’t want to.” He sighed and picked up his trash, walking over to the garbage.

 

“It’s sort of a touchy subject with him,” Danny explained, looking over at Sam and Dean. “First love is his last love, I guess.”

 

Dylan looked up at Danny, smiling, kissing his cheek. “Sounds nice to me.”

 

“He does realize that the wedding vows were ‘until death do us part’, right?” Dean asked, earning a kick under the table from Sam.

 

Danny swallowed hard and shifted uncomfortably, dropping his eyes. “Yeah, well…”

 

Todd sat back down, looking over at Danny. “What’s going on, Dan? You okay?” he asked.

 

Danny nodded and lifted his arm off of Dylan’s shoulders. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He reached out for his soda, taking another drink. He cleared his throat, trying weakly to smile. “Little tired, is all.”

 

Dean smiled and rolled his eyes. “Right, like that wasn’t to be expected. I got a little tired of it myself.” 

 

Dylan blushed and looked away from his parents. “So uh…” he looked up at Danny, “who did you want me to meet?” he asked suddenly.

 

“Uh, not tonight,” Danny said, shaking his head. “tonight’s just for us. We have like a week, they’ll be there.”

 

“Cool,” Dylan nodded, reaching out to grab a chicken nugget.

 

“Who’s he meeting?” Sam asked quietly, leaning forward to look at Todd.

 

Todd shook his head. “Not sure exactly,” he admitted, “but I’m guessing it’s just…an old friend.” He nudged Danny under the table, giving him a small smile.

 

* * * *

 

Sam knocked on the bedroom door, waiting for a moment. “Good night, you two,” he called, walking down the hallway to the guest room. 

 

Dylan lifted his head off the pillow. “Night, Mom!” he called, pushing himself off the mattress. “I’ll be right back, ‘kay?” he said, glancing back at Danny, pulling open the bedroom door.

 

Danny nodded languidly, rolling onto his side to watch Dylan walk out of the room. 

 

Dylan padded down the hallway, knocking on the guest room door, pushing it open. 

 

“You okay, Dyl?” Dean asked, looking over from the bed. 

 

Dylan nodded and walked into the room, wrapping his arms around Dean. “Just wanted to say goodnight,” he explained, pulling back from his hug. “And thanks again, for letting us come.” He stood up and walked over to Sam, hugging him also. “Goodnight.”

 

“Goodnight,” Dean and Sam replied together. “Try and uh, get some sleep tonight,” Dean suggested, smiling and giving Dylan a wink.

 

Dylan smiled but blushed a little anyway, walking back over to the door. “Yeah, a little bit.” He nodded a couple of times and walked out of the guest room, going back to Danny’s bedroom.

 

Sam pulled off his sweater and grabbed a t-shirt, looking back at Dean as he pulled it on. “He gets around Danny and he’s all sunshine, lollipops and rainbows again.”

 

Dean shrugged, looking around the room. “I don’t know, he’s been a lot better since-- well, since…” he cleared his throat and waved his hand, “even with the whole incest thing, you know?”

 

“I do,” Sam said quietly, walking over to the bed, dropping down beside Dean. He smiled up at him, leaning up to give him a kiss. “We good?”

 

“We’re always good,” Dean murmured against Sam’s mouth, kissing him again. He cupped the back of Sam’s neck, and lightly grasped onto Sam’s arm, slipping his tongue into Sam’s mouth, moaning softly. “Love you,” he breathed, starting to gently push Sam back against the mattress.

 

Sam swallowed hard and reached up, pressing his hands to Dean’s chest, pushing him back. “Not-- not yet, okay?” he asked, wetting his lips. 

 

Dean nodded and let himself get pushed down onto the bed, kissing Sam as Sam straddled Dean’s hips, one of Sam’s hands moving up under Dean’s shirt. He smiled and pulled back, shifting under Sam. “So what do you think Todd’s doing right now?” he asked.

 

Sam laughed softly and shook his head, flipping his hair away from his face. “Very funny,” he murmured, starting to pull on the hem of Dean’s shirt.

 

“Are you tired?” Danny asked, propped up on his arm, looking down at Dylan.

 

Dylan nodded slowly and stretched on cue. “Yeah, a little,” he admitted, meeting Danny’s eyes. “Sorry.”

 

“S’fine,” Danny assured him softly. “You want me to just hold you until you fall asleep?” he asked, only half joking.

 

Dylan rolled his eyes and tried not to laugh. “Yeah, okay Danny, let’s just watch TV, okay?” He reached over and grabbed the remote from the nightstand, handing it to Danny. “You can pick,” he said quietly, curling into Danny’s chest.

 

Danny kissed the top of Dylan’s head, wrapping an arm around him. “You gonna go to sleep?” he asked softly, kissing Dylan again.

 

Dylan nodded tiredly, eyes fluttering before they finally drifted closed. “Yeah,” he breathed, yawning loudly. “G’night.”

 

Danny smiled and turned down the volume on the television, flicking through the channels. “Night, Dyl,” he whispered, feeling Dylan smile against his chest.

 

* * * *

 

“So I think that maybe an actual tour is in order,” Danny smiled, reaching out to grasp onto Dylan’s hand. “We didn’t really do much outside my bedroom yesterday.”

 

Dylan chuckled and reached out for his glass, letting Danny begin to lead him. “So this is the kitchen, right?” he asked sarcastically, looking around. 

 

“Bathroom, actually,” Danny replied, sticking his tongue out at Dylan. “Nice, isn’t it?”

 

“Very,” Dylan agreed, nodding slowly. 

 

“So, here is the living room,” Danny said, looking at Dylan. “We live in this room.”

 

Todd looked up and rolled his eyes, giving them a small wave. “Danny, there’s about seven rooms in this house; do you really think that he needs a tour?” he asked.

 

“It’s fine, Todd,” Dylan assured him, “he thinks it’s entertaining.” He looked around the living room, smiling at some of the pictures on the walls. “Aw, you were such a cute baby, Danny,” he grinned.

 

“Okay, and the tour of the living room is over,” Danny said, quickly leading Dylan away. “On to the bedrooms.”

 

Todd sat up, watching the two of them walk away. “Yeah, he probably didn’t see much of yours other than the bed.”

 

Dylan laughed and looked in Danny’s room as they walked by. “He has a point.”

 

“There’s nothing in there,” Danny said, glancing back. “Lots of windows. No room for anything else.”

 

“I think that your room is gorgeous,” Dylan said, leaning up to kiss Danny’s cheek.

 

“Okay, this is the spare room,” Danny said, stopping in front of the door. “Of course, I think that your parents are asleep in there, so--”

 

Dylan reached out and turned the doorknob, pushing the door open. He glanced over at the bed, smiling at his sleeping parents. He looked around, walking over to the window, looking into the backyard. 

 

“Too cold for swimming,” Danny said quietly, wrapping his arms around Dylan, walking him backwards from the window, “so don’t even ask.”

 

Dylan nodded and looked around the room, walking back to the door.

 

“Whas’ goin’ on?” Dean mumbled, lifting his head, hair sticking out at different angles. 

 

“Nothing, Dad,” Dylan smiled, “go back to sleep.”

 

Dean nodded and dropped his head back down, taking a deep breath. “Kay,” he breathed, pulling the sheets up almost over his head. 

 

“What about a tour of the actual neighbourhood?” Danny offered, following behind Dylan. “And this is my dad’s room.”

 

Dylan just leaned in, glancing around. “Yeah sure, I could go for a walk.” He cocked his head to the side and walked into the room, going over to Todd’s dresser. “Who’s this?” he asked, picking up the picture frame.

 

Danny looked around his father’s room as he walked over to Dylan, reaching out for the photo. “That’s uh, that’s my mom,” he said quietly, handing it back to Dylan.

 

“Oh,” Dylan said, studying the picture. “Wow. She was uh, she was…”

 

“Gorgeous, I know,” Danny said, shifting on his feet. “I mean, that’s what everybody says.”

 

Dylan smiled, setting the picture back down on the dresser, looking up at Danny. “I think that if my dad saw her he’d stop asking why your dad was single.”

 

“Yeah,” Danny muttered, “great.” 

 

“Sorry,” Dylan said quietly, looking back at the picture. “I…that was sort of a stupid thing to say, huh? I just meant--”

 

“She was pretty,” Danny interrupted, “I know. That’s where I gots my curls from,” he said, running his hand over his head. “And no, it’s not some weird separation anxiety or something, me cutting my hair off.”

 

“Was Dylan just in here?” Sam asked quietly, rubbing at his eyes. 

 

Dean yawned loudly and nodded. “Yeah, him and Danny,” he answered, giving Sam a quick smile before pulling the sheets the rest of the way over his head.

 

“Do you wanna just go for a walk now?” Danny asked, grasping onto Dylan’s hand. “We can talk. There has to be things that you wanna talk about that you couldn’t say on the phone.” He kissed Dylan’s cheek, leading him down the hallway. 

 

Dylan shook his head, walking with Danny to the front door, both getting into their sneakers. “No, not really. I think you know all that is needed to know.”

 

“Okay,” Danny nodded, opening the door for Dylan. “Well then, let’s just walk, huh?” He smiled and looked back towards the living room. “Dad, we’re just going for a walk, okay?”

 

Todd nodded, taking a bite of his cereal. “Yep, okay. Got your phone, just in case I need to call ya?”

 

Danny patted his pockets and gave Todd the thumbs up, who gave it right back. “Never hesitate to call, Dad,” he grinned, following Dylan outside. 

 

“You think Todd’ll make us breakfast?” Dean asked, sitting up slowly, scratching at his chest.

 

Sam groaned softly and rolled onto his side, before finally pushing himself up, yawning loudly. “Probably not.”

 

Dean pouted and stood up, yawning as he grabbed onto his shirt, pulling it on. “Stupid Todd, won’t make my breakfast,” he grumbled.

 

“Well, you can always ask him,” Sam said, stretching his arms above his head. “Or, wait for it, you could always make it yourself!” he grinned, laughing.

 

Dean rolled his eyes and grabbed his pillow, throwing it at Sam. “I suppose that you want me to make yours, too.”

 

Sam kept grinning as he shrugged his shoulders. “That would be awesome. Especially since I’m just gonna go have a shower now. If my breakfast could be ready for when I got out--”

 

“I am going to have to murder you,” Dean interrupted. “But fine,” he sighed, “I’ll go see what Todd has.” He adjusted his boxers and walked out of the bedroom, yawning loudly. “Todd,” he barked, “what kind of food ya got?”

 

“Whatever you like,” Todd mumbled, milk dribbling down his chin. “Just don’t ask me to make it for you.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes and opened the refrigerator. “Oh, don’t worry about that,” he muttered, pulling out the milk.

 

“Cold?” Danny asked, moving closer to Dylan. 

 

“Little chilly,” Dylan admitted, glancing back at Danny. “I’m uh, well, let’s just say that I’m not used to Washington weather.”

 

Danny laughed. “Yeah, it does take a bit of time, I got to admit.” He kissed Dylan’s neck, smiling against the skin. “We can always go back though, if you want.”

 

Dylan shook his head, looking around. “This neighborhood's so nice. What a great place to live.”

 

“Not as great as Fullerton,” Danny said, “but that’s just because Fullerton had you.”

 

Dylan blushed and ducked his head, wetting his lips. “So, any chance that you got U-Dub out of your system and you’re gonna come back next year?”

 

Danny swallowed hard and shook his head. “Uh, no, sorry, Dyl. This is sort of my home now.”

 

Dylan looked up at Danny, smiling weakly. “You’ve been here seven months, Danny. This can’t be your home already.”

 

Danny sighed and nodded. “I-- I know that it seems that way, Dylan, but really…this is sort of where I’m meant to be right now. I know it doesn’t make any sense right now, but tonight, tonight there’s someone I want you to meet. And you’ll get it then.”

 

“Who is it anyway?” Dylan asked. “I mean, would it really ruin anything if you just gave me a name?”

 

Danny cleared his throat gently and smiled down at Dylan. “Uh, her-- her name is Lucy Noel.”

 

“Lucy Noel,” Dylan said softly, nodding. “Sounds nice.”

 

Danny nodded. “Yeah, she is. I think that you’ll like her.”

 

“You know, I’m kind of glad that you’re gay,” Dylan said, “so I don’t have to worry about something between you and this Lucy Noel.”

 

Danny laughed loudly, shaking his head. “No, definitely not. Trust me though, she’s good people.”

 

“Can’t wait for tonight then,” Dylan smiled, squeezing Danny’s hand. 

 

* * * *

 

“Wait,” Sam said, reaching out for Dylan’s arm. “Where are ya going?”

 

“Uh,” Dylan glanced over at Danny, who wasn’t saying anything, “to meet somebody. Danny wants me to meet her. We won’t be too long, I don’t think.”

 

“Are we letting them go?” Sam asked, letting go of Dylan, looking over at Dean.

 

“Why wouldn’t we?” Dean asked, looking up from the magazine. “I trust ‘em.” He lifted his head, looking over at Dylan and Danny. “Just be good.”

 

“Todd?” Sam asked, leaning forward. “This okay?”

 

Todd nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. “Just make sure you’re warm enough, Dylan. Cold out at night.”

 

Sam looked back to Dylan, studying him quickly. “Sweater. Hoodie. Something. Just put it on, okay?”

 

“And that’s it?” Dylan asked. “I can go after that?”

 

Sam nodded, settling back in beside Dean, resting his head on Dean’s shoulder. “Yeah, you can go. Take your phone too.”

 

“Thanks,” Dylan nodded, starting back off towards Danny’s bedroom. 

 

Sam smiled up at Danny, shifting on the couch. “How you doing, Danny?” he asked.

 

Danny smiled back and gingerly sat down on the couch. “Just fine, Mr Winchester,” he nodded.

 

Sam reached out, patting Danny’s leg. “You can call me Sam. So, who’re you going to visit?”

 

Danny smiled and shook his head. “It’s sort of a surprise,” he explained.

 

“I see,” Sam said quietly. “Does she have a name?”

 

Danny looked past Sam, over at Todd, nodding slowly. “Her name is Lucy,” he replied. Todd raised his head quickly, looking over at Danny. He smiled faintly and Danny smiled back.

 

“Lucy, huh?” Dean asked. “Sounds hot to me.”

 

Sam sighed loudly and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Dean, okay. I don’t think that that was that appropriate.”

 

“Got my sweater,” Dylan announced, walking back into the living room, “and my phone. Ready to go.”

 

“Me too,” Danny said, jumping up off the couch. “I don’t think we’ll be too long,” he said, looking back at their parents. “Have fun, you three.”

 

“Loads,” Dean said flatly, flipping the page. He turned and kissed Sam’s forehead, smiling. “You reading this?” he asked softly.

 

“Bye,” Dylan said, slowly following behind Danny. He smiled and waved, pulling the door closed behind them.

 

Todd lifted his head, sighed and nodded, looking over at Sam and Dean. “So,” he said finally, “who’s up for a threesome?”

 

Sam’s eyes widened and he lifted his head, looking up at Dean, who was frowning. “Um, well, gotta say…I did not expect that.”

 

Todd stared at them for a couple more seconds before breaking out into a grin, laughing as he stood up. “No, don’t worry. I’m straight.” He picked up Sam’s empty glass, thinking for a moment. “Well, at least I think I am. Been so long, so…who knows, really?” He smiled down at them, winking as he continued on into the kitchen. 

 

Sam just stared at Todd in disbelief, before Dean began to laugh loudly, shaking his head. “Ah, that Todd,” Dean muttered, going back to his magazine. 

 

* * * *

 

“Okay…” Dylan said, slowly climbing out of the car, “Danny, I can’t help but be slightly creeped out by this.” He leaned against the car door, pushing it closed as he looked around the cemetery. “Um…there’s a good explanation for bringing me here, right?” he asked.

 

Danny smiled and nodded, walking around to the passenger side of the car, linking fingers with Dylan. “There is.”

 

“Does it involve you lying to me for the past sixteen years,” Dylan began, looking up at Danny, “and guess what? You’re really a serial killer who had to move to Washington to get away from the cops and now you want to introduce me to Lucy Noel, your first victim?”

 

Danny laughed and shook his head, leading Dylan down one of the paths through the stones. “Yeah Dyl, I was killer before I hit three.” He rolled his eyes, squeezing Dylan’s hand. “Wild imagination much?”

 

Dylan sighed and looked around, swallowing hard. “We couldn’t’ve come during the day?” he asked quietly, almost tripping over a broken stone, holding onto Danny a little tighter. “When there was light?”

 

“I wanted to be alone,” Danny explained, looking around. “It should be just…over there,” he said, smiling at Dylan. “Come on, she won’t bite.”

 

“So, Lucy Noel is…dead, right?” Dylan asked. “Or have I completely missed something here?”

 

“Just sit,” Danny said, sitting down in front of a gravestone, legs crossed. “Please.”

 

Dylan smiled and nodded, sitting down beside Danny, shifting. “Okay,” he said quietly, looking up at Danny.

 

Danny nodded forward, wetting his lips. “Well?” he asked.

 

Dylan blinked a couple of times, the engraved words slightly faded, but in the dark he could still make out, “Beloved mother, wife and daughter,” he read, voice getting quieter as he got to the second line, “Lucy Noel Ford.” 

 

“Yeah,” Danny breathed, reaching out to run his fingers over the word ‘mother’. “Dylan, I would like you to meet my mother.”

 

Dylan sniffled and wrapped his arms around himself, leaning forward to read the rest. “December eighteenth, nineteen eighty-six to February twenty-first, two thousand and seven.”

 

“A star on earth, a star in heaven,” Danny finished. “Yeah, I know. Her parents picked the quote. Dad wasn’t talking and well, I couldn’t, so…”

 

Dylan nodded slowly, leaning against Danny. “Hi, Danny’s mom,” he said quietly, waving. “Nice to meet you.”

 

Danny cleared his throat gently. “Yeah Mom, this is him…I figured after I told you so much about him, you could meet him.”

 

“You told her about me?” Dylan asked, lifting his head. 

 

“Of course,” Danny replied, kissing Dylan. “So far, she seems to like you.”

 

Dylan smiled. “Good,” he said quietly, snuggling into Danny.

 

Danny smiled, shifting on the cool ground. “So uh,” he cleared his throat again, “do you sort of get why this is my home now?” he asked.

 

Dylan frowned and lifted his head. “I thought you were from California,” he said, looking up at Danny. “I guess…you’re not.”

 

Danny shook his head gently. “Uh, no. I was born here. Well, not here here, I was born in Bellevue. My mom grew up here, her parents still live here.”

 

“So, why did you move?” Dylan asked. “Or, when?”

 

“A couple months after my mom died,” Danny answered. “You see, my dad is from Long Beach, he grew up in California. He went to U-Dub and met my mom. When my mom got sick and after she…” he waved his hand to the gravestone, “Dad couldn’t take care of me alone and moved back to California, to be near his parents.”

 

“That’s why you wanted to go here,” Dylan said. He rubbed at his eyes, shaking his head. “I can’t believe I tried to stop you,” he said in disbelief. “I feel like an idiot. Why didn’t you just tell me?”

 

Danny shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, I wasn’t trying to hide it or anything, I just…thought it was between me and my dad.” He kissed Dylan’s temple, wrapping an arm around Dylan’s waist. “Are you mad?”

 

Dylan snorted and shook his head. “How could I be? I mean, I’ve never taken you to my nanny’s grave. Of course, that’s in Kansas, but still. Maybe sometime.”

 

Danny nodded even as he shifted awkwardly on the ground. “Yeah,” he agreed, “sometime.”

 

Dylan studied the gravestone and shifted, leaning against Danny, closing his eyes. “Tell me about her, Danny.”

 

“I don’t remember her,” Danny pointed out.

 

“Doesn’t matter,” Dylan murmured, looking up at Danny. “Tell me what you know about her. What was she taking at U-Dub?” he asked. “What did she wanna be?”

 

Danny smiled. “She was taking oceanography. Dad was taking architecture. She loved the ocean. Before she died, her parents took us to Hawaii to let us swim with the dolphins.”

 

Dylan smiled, settling against Danny’s chest, feeling Danny’s arms wrap around him. “That sounds nice.”

 

Danny nodded. “I don’t remember. But I think that it was. We have pictures…of her with me.” His eyes began filling with tears and he sniffled. “I miss her a lot,” he said, voice trembling slightly. “I wish she was still alive.”

 

Dylan opened his eyes, looking up at Danny. “Yeah, I know,” he said quietly, leaning up to kiss Danny’s cheek.

 

* * * *

 

Danny pushed himself on one elbow, smiling down at Dylan, connecting the moles on his bare back. “I’ve loved having you here,” he said quietly, leaning down to kiss between Dylan’s shoulder blades. 

 

Dylan smiled dreamily and shifted on the bed, fingers curling into the sheets as he stretched. “I’ve loved being here,” he replied, eyes fluttering open to look at Danny.

 

Danny closed his eyes for a moment and swallowed hard, starting to feel sick to his stomach. “I’m going to miss you,” he continued, taking a deep breath.

 

Dylan nodded. “School’s almost over though. I can come back in the summer, or you can come home.”

 

Danny took another deep breath, the feeling growing in the pit of his stomach and he shook his head slightly. “I don’t think so, Dylan.” He leaned down, kissing Dylan again. “I…it’s just-- it’s a lot harder to love somebody two states away than I thought it would be,” he explained.

 

Dylan frowned and pushed himself up, sitting against the headboard. “What are you talking about?” he asked. 

 

Danny dropped his eyes and he sniffled loudly, wiping at his eyes. “I…I don’t want you to think that I don’t love you, Dylan.”

 

Dylan swallowed and sniffled, shaking his head. “I don’t think that I wanna hear where this is going.”

 

“Yeah, I don’t really wanna keep going,” Danny admitted, “but I can’t-- I don’t think that I can say goodbye to you again, Dylan. It was hard enough in August.”

 

“Then don’t say goodbye!” Dylan exclaimed. “Don’t break up with me.”

 

Danny swallowed hard and began picking at his bed sheets. “I love you, Dylan,” he began softly. “I really do. And I’m never gonna stop, you know? But I can’t-- I can’t date somebody who lives two states away anymore. It’s hard and we never see each other and sometimes we never talk and-- and I just…want to be with somebody who I can to, who I can see.”

 

Dylan brought his knees up to his chest, tears starting to run down his cheeks. “You found somebody else,” he said sadly.

 

Danny looked up at Dylan, eyes wide. “No! No, no. Definitely not. I wasn’t looking. I was with you. I am-- no, I was with you. Why would I even be looking at other guys?”

 

“Because you invited me to Washington to break up with me,” Dylan muttered. “Gee, thanks, Danny. Best spring break ever.”

 

“I didn’t invite you here to break up with you,” Danny corrected. “I swear, I didn’t. It was the last thing in my mind. But-- but you in a couple of days, and every time I think about it, I get sick to my stomach and I-- I just figure maybe it’ll be easier to say goodbye, if I know that--”

 

Dylan shook his head angrily. “God, Danny, the secrets I’ve told you, the things we’ve done…I love you so much.”

 

“I’m not saying that I’ve stopped loving you,” Danny said. “I’m not. I still love you. But we’re just-- we’re not at the same point in our lives right now.”

 

Dylan threw the sheets off of him, swinging his legs off the bed. “Go to hell,” he snapped, pulling open the bedroom door, slamming it behind him.

 

Danny cringed and sighed loudly, looking back down at the bed.

 

Dylan wiped at his eyes and pushed open the door to the guest room, pushing it closed quietly behind him. “Mom?” he asked quietly, walking over to the bed.

 

Sam groaned softly in his sleep and cleared his throat, eyes fluttering open. “Yeah?” he asked quietly, pushing himself up. “You okay?”

 

Dylan began sobbing quietly and shook his head, climbing over Sam, dropping down on the bed beside him. “No,” he sniffled, looking around. “Where’s Dad?”

 

“Bathroom,” Sam said quietly, wrapping his arms around Dylan, pulling him in. “Are you okay, sweetheart?” he asked, rubbing Dylan’s back gently.

 

Dylan shook his head again, crying into Sam’s t-shirt. “No,” he repeated, breath hitching.

 

Sam kissed the top of Dylan’s head, holding Dylan close. “Is it Danny?” he asked.

 

Dylan nodded, wiping at his nose. “I wanna go home early,” he said, “please. I can’t wait until Saturday.”

 

Sam nodded. “Yeah, yeah, whatever I can do…me and Dean’ll get you home, I promise.”

 

“Now?” Dylan asked hopefully.

 

Sam shook his head. “No, Dyl, not now. It’s two a.m. now, let’s wait until the actual morning, okay? Can you wait that long?”

 

Dylan nodded slowly, wiping his cheeks against Sam’s shirt. “Ye-- yeah, okay.”

 

Sam sighed and kissed the top of Dylan’s head, pulling the sheets up over them. “I’m really sorry, Dylan,” he whispered, rubbing his back again. “I’m sorry.”

 

Dylan nodded, snuggling against Sam’s chest. “Yeah, me too,” he breathed, letting his eyes drift closed. He took a deep breath and his fingers curled into Sam’s t-shirt as he began to drift off.

 

Dean walked quietly down the hallway, pushing open the door to the guest room. He walked in, frowning at the second lump in the bed. “What’s going on?” he asked, getting shushed by Sam. “What’s going on?” he asked again softly. 

 

Sam sighed, running his fingers through Dylan’s hair. “It’s Danny,” he replied. “They broke up.”

 

Dean shook his head, glancing back at the door. “I’m gonna kick that little motherfucker’s ass,” he said angrily.

 

“Dean, don’t,” Sam said warningly. “Just…don’t, okay? Let it go for now.”

 

“Did he say why?” Dean asked, walking around to his side of the bed, gently climbing in. “‘Cause that little bastard better have had a damn good reason to break my kid’s heart.”

 

Sam shook his head. “No, he…didn’t say. But I’m sure it seemed like a good reason to Danny.”

 

Dean sighed and leaned out, kissing Dylan’s head. “Poor kid,” he whispered.

 

Danny walked down the hall, past the guest bedroom, to push open Todd’s bedroom door. “Dad?” he asked, pushing the door closed.

 

Todd looked up from his book and sighed, seeing the tears in Danny’s eyes. “You did it, huh?” he asked, taking off his glasses.

 

Danny cleared his throat and walked over to Todd’s bed, dropping down onto the mattress, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I feel like an idiot,” he muttered, sniffling loudly. “God, I hated myself the second I opened my mouth but I just couldn’t stop talking.”

 

Todd closed his book and leaned down, patting Danny’s shoulder. “You did it ‘cause you thought it was for the best, right?”

 

Danny nodded, taking his hands away from his eyes. “I hate not being around him. I really do.” He sniffled loudly, starting to cry again. “It’s not going to be easier, is it?”

 

“It might be,” Todd said, “eventually. But you might’ve lost a friend too, Danny.”

 

Danny nodded and curled up on his side, crying into the comforter. “I know, that’s why I feel so stupid.” He sniffled and his breath hitched, wetting the sheets with his tears. “I love him so much and I just ruined everything.”

 

Todd sighed and reached down, running his fingers through Danny’s short hair. “It’ll be okay, Danny,” he assured him quietly.

 

* * * *

 

“Exchanged our tickets,” Dean said softly, helping Dylan repack, “our flight’s in like, an hour. You wanna leave soon?”

 

Dylan nodded dumbly, swallowing hard. “Soon as I get packed.”

 

“You gonna say goodbye to him?” Dean asked, folding one of Dylan’s sweaters.

 

Dylan looked up and shook his head. “No,” he said quietly, picking at his sleeve. “I think he said enough last night.”

 

“Yeah, okay, I get that,” Dean agreed, “but did you say enough?”

 

Dylan sighed and looked over at Dean. “I uh, no, I guess not. I told him to go to hell.”

 

Dean nodded understandingly, reaching down to grasp onto Dylan’s hand. “At least give him the ring back, huh?”

 

Dylan lifted his hand, examining the ring, nodding. “Yeah, I should probably do that.” He cleared his throat and pulled it off, turning and walking out of Danny’s bedroom. “Todd?” he asked quietly.

 

Todd looked up, trying weakly to smile. “Yeah?” he asked, sitting up.

 

“Where’s Danny?” Dylan asked, shifting on his feet.

 

“I think he’s outside,” Todd replied, “backyard. Try not to push him in the pool.”

 

Dylan nodded and walked to the door, slipping his feet on his sneakers before pushing the door open, looking around. “Danny?” he called, walking around back. He cleared his throat, stopping when he saw Danny by the pool.

 

“Hi,” Danny said softly, not even looking up. “Leaving soon?”

 

Dylan nodded before finally walking towards Danny, sitting down a couple of feet away from him. “Yeah, pretty soon. Dad’s just finishing my packing.” He squeezed his hand around the ring, looking down at the ground.

 

Danny nodded slowly, glancing over at Dylan. “Uh…well, I hope you have a safe flight home.”

 

“Yeah,” Dylan breathed, finally reaching his hand out to Danny. “Here. It’s-- it’s yours now.” He dropped the ring into Danny’s open hand, dropping his eyes.

 

Danny swallowed and examined his ring, nodding to himself. “You know, I think that somewhere, really deep down, I thought you’d agree with me. That…that it was better of, that we were better off just friends again.” He laughed softly, shaking his head. “I guess you always were the brains of the whole operation.”

 

Dylan didn’t smile, didn’t laugh, just stared at Danny. 

 

“Okay,” Danny said softly, looking back to his ring. “It made in sense in my head, if that’s any consolation. And I didn’t wanna hurt you. I-- I just thought it would be easier. Easier to watch you go, if I knew that we weren’t a couple anymore. I wouldn’t have to worry about you as much if we were just friends.”

 

Dylan swallowed hard and pushed himself up off the ground, brushing off his jeans. “I hope that you find somebody here, Danny. Somebody that you can see. Somebody your own age.” He began walking back towards the house.

 

“Wait,” Danny said, standing up quickly. “Uh…I don’t think we’re ending this right.”

 

Dylan turned back towards him. “Is there really a right way to end this?” he asked.

 

Danny rolled his lips into his mouth, thinking as he walked over to Dylan. “I…” he leaned in, mouth by Dylan’s ear, “I’ll always love you, Dylan Winchester,” he whispered, sniffling quietly. He turned his head and gently kissed Dylan’s cheek. He pulled back, taking a deep breath. “Can we at least stay friends?” he asked.

 

Dylan swallowed and slowly looked up at Danny, eyes full of tears. “I, ” he shook his head slowly, “I don’t think so…Daniel Ford.” He wiped at his eyes and turned back towards the house, wrapping his arms around himself, hurrying away.

 

Danny let out a broken sob, listening to Dylan go back into the house. He sniffled loudly and wiped at his eyes, turning back towards the pool, crying as he dropped back down beside the water. “Idiot,” he muttered, shaking his head. He lifted his hand, studying his school ring, squeezing his eyes shut. He swallowed hard and cried out loudly as he threw it into the pool.


	32. Chapter 31

Title: Look What Love Has Done - Volume 3 - Chapter 31

Pairing: Sam/Dean

Disclaimer: Not mine

Rating: PG-13 this chapter

Summary: On the day of Dylan's grad practice, Dean finally finds out what Dylan wants to do with his life.

Author's Note: Forget volume one, forget volume two; this is volume three 

 

seventeen years, two months and eight days old

 

Sam groaned softly and shifted on his back, muttering in his sleep.

 

Dean let out a soft snore, hands sliding under his pillow, jerking awake when he heard a thump from somewhere in the house. He held his breath, trying to pinpoint where the sound came from and what had made it. He lifted his head, trying not to glare at Sam, who was almost making enough noise on his own to cover up whoever it was in the house. He quietly moved his legs off the bed, dropping his feet down to the floor, slowly opening the second drawer of the nightstand, finding the handle of his knife. 

 

Sam blindly reached out for Dean, grasping onto his boxers before his eyes finally opened, looking up at him. “What’s going on?” he asked, awkwardly pushing himself up. 

 

“Shh,” Dean said, walking over to the bedroom door. “Quiet.” He reached down and slowly turned the doorknob, peering out into the dark house.

 

“Dean,” Sam said sternly, standing up, “put down the knife.”

 

Dean quickly opened the door, stepping out of the room.

 

“Ow,” Dylan said, bumping into the dining table. He rubbed at his hip, finally looking up, seeing Dean in the shadows. “Oh, hey, Dad,” he said, still rubbing his hip. He noticed the knife in Dean’s hand, swallowing. “Uh…Dad?”

 

Sam yawned loudly, leaning against the doorframe. “See, Dean? Jesus, put the knife down and come back to bed.”

 

“Where were you?” Dean asked, handing the knife back to Sam, walking over to Dylan.

 

“Out,” Dylan replied, toeing off his sneakers. 

 

Sam studied the knife in his hands, nodding to himself. “Where was this anyway?” he asked, looking up.

 

“Nightstand,” Dean replied, not even glancing back at Sam. “Dyl, I asked where you were.”

 

Dylan sighed loudly and picked up his shoes. “I was just out with friends, Dad. I’m sorry I’m late and maybe I should’ve turned on the light when I came in.”

 

Dean shook his head in disbelief, leaning forward to glance at the time on the microwave. “You were out until three a.m.?” he asked. “Good thing you don’t have school tomo-- today, huh?”

 

Dylan grinned and stretched his arms above his head, nodding eagerly. “I know. I practically don’t have to back until Wednesday, and then I never have to go back again.” He began to walk towards his room, before Dean stopped him with his hand on his chest. 

 

“And you’re grounded until then,” Dean smirked, before turning back towards the master bedroom.

 

Dylan’s jaw dropped and he shook his head. “No way Dad, don’t be so gay.”

 

Dean snorted and walked into the bedroom, looking back at Dylan. “You follow my rules, and I’ll stop being so gay. Got it?”

 

“Mom!” Dylan exclaimed. “Say something! I’m not even that late! You didn’t give me a curfew, how the hell can you punish me?”

 

“Go to bed, Dylan,” Sam said gently, following Dean into their bedroom. “We’ll talk in the morning.” He sighed and pushed the door closed behind him, looking over at Dean expectantly. “You’re grounding him until graduation?” he asked, walking the knife back over to the nightstand. 

 

“That’s the plan,” Dean said, climbing into bed, pulling up the sheets. 

 

“Maybe you should try and extend that until after graduation,” Sam suggested, walking back around to his side of the bed. “Maybe like, a couple of days after. He’s going to party, you know.”

 

“Long as he comes home when I tell him to,” Dean muttered, rolling away from Sam, onto his side. 

 

Sam smiled and leaned over, kissing Dean’s cheek, dropping down onto the mattress, wrapping an arm around Dean’s waist. “You didn’t tell him when to come home,” he whispered, rolling onto his back. 

 

Dean lifted his head, glancing back at Sam, who was still smiling at him. “Whatever. He’s pissing me off.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes and curled back against Dean’s back, taking a deep breath. “Yeah, I feel ya,” he admitted finally, rubbing his cheek against Dean’s shirt. 

 

* * * *

 

Dylan glared at Sam and Dean as they made their way out of the bedroom, bringing his spoon up to his mouth. 

 

Sam smiled over at Dylan, reaching out to ruffle Dylan’s hair. “How you doing?” he asked. “Up early, aren’t ya?”

 

Dylan sighed and dropped his eyes, spinning the milk around his cereal bowl. “Couldn’t get to sleep,” he muttered, rubbing at his eyes.

 

“What are you doing today?” Dean asked, walking over to the cupboard, pulling out his mug. 

 

Dylan looked slowly up at Dean, biting into his cereal. “Can you guess which finger I’m giving you under the table?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

 

Sam’s jaw dropped and he looked over at Dean in disbelief. “Uh, you’re…not gonna let him talk to you like that, right?” he asked, pulling out a bowl. 

 

Dean turned back to Dylan, shaking his head slowly. “Graduation…whatever plans you had for afterward? Canceled. Got that, kid?”

 

Dylan shook his head, looking back down at his cereal. “Whatever,” he muttered. “I can’t wait till I leave in August and get the hell out of here.”

 

“That makes two of us, Dylan,” Dean snapped. “‘Cause to be completely honest, you’re driving me fucking insane.”

 

“Okay,” Sam muttered, turning his head to watch Dean walker over to the coffee pot, “that might’ve been a bit on the extreme end too. Let’s just everybody stop swearing and stop giving the finger and yeah, sounds good to me, okay?” He turned to the refrigerator, eyes quickly scanning the calendar. “You have grad practice today,” he said flatly, looking over at Dylan.

 

“Yeah, I know,” Dylan replied, taking another bite of his cereal.

 

“Did you plan on going?” Sam asked.

 

Dylan slowly chewed his food, before swallowing it down and shaking his head. “I did, but I got grounded at three a.m. I’m not allowed out.”

 

“What time’s it at?” Dean asked, looking over at Sam, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

 

“Two-thirty,” Sam replied, pouring his bowl full of cereal.

 

“I’ll take lunch,” Dean said, “I’ll come back and drive you to practice. Sounds good to me.”

 

“Thanks,” Dylan said softly, slouching in his seat. “I’ll uh, I guess that I can do some chores today, while I’m waiting,” he offered, looking up at his parents.

 

Dean glanced back at Sam, who was smiling, nodding slowly. “Yeah, sounds good,” Sam nodded, opening the drawer, grabbing a spoon. “And what time is graduation on Wednesday?”

 

“It starts at seven,” Dylan replied, “but I need to be there earlier. And if you guys want good seats, and by good seats, I mean the ability to actually see me, you need to be there earlier too.” He smiled when King Chuck came padding over, reaching down to let him lick his hand. 

 

“So we’ll leave right after six,” Sam suggested, glancing over at Dean, who’s eyes had suddenly widened. “Dean?” he asked.

 

“Bathroom,” Dean said quickly, setting his mug down on the counter before hurrying into the bathroom.

 

“God,” Sam muttered, shaking his head. He sighed and picked up his bowl and spoon, walking over to the table, dropping down in his seat. “What are you doing down there, Chuck? Bothering Dylan for his breakfast?” He stuck his tongue out at the dog, holding his hand out for him. “Chucky, Dylan’s gotta eat his breakfast. Here,” he grabbed a couple of pieces of his cereal, “have some of mine.”

 

Dylan smiled and took another bite, chewing thoughtfully. “How mad do you think Dad is at me?”

 

“Enough to ground you,” Sam replied, finally taking a bite of his food. He swallowed and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. “How mad are you at him?”

 

“I’m not,” Dylan said quietly, “not really. I’m just really tired.”

 

“Yeah well, I’m sure that he is too,” Sam pointed out. “Listen, I know that he never gave you a curfew, but please don’t argue with him, okay?”

 

Dylan nodded, looking up when the bathroom door opened and Dean walked back out. “I won’t,” he agreed quietly, picking his spoon back up.

 

Dean began humming softly, making his way around almost the entire kitchen before coming back to his mug, smiling. “There we are,” he said, picking the mug up, going over to the kettle.

 

* * * *

 

Dylan pushed open the door, stepping out of the car. He brought his hand up, slipping on his sunglasses, causing Dean to start to laugh. “What?” he asked, pushing up his hair.

 

Dean just closed his door and shook his head. “Oh, nothing.” He looked around, gesturing to the dark, overcast sky. “Too bright, huh?” he teased.

 

Dylan squinted his eyes as Dean, reaching up to pop the collar on his jacket. “Dad, my future’s so bright I gotta wear shades.”

 

Dean began laughing loudly, following after Dylan towards the school as he tried not to double over. “Well,” he shook his head, still laughing, “I’m glad to see you’re in a better mood.” He jogged a little, hurrying to catch up with Dylan, clapping his hand on his shoulder. He sighed, shaking his head, trying to calm down. “Okay, I’m good. So what do I gotta do?” he asked, pulling open the door for Dylan.

 

Dylan shook his head, walking into the school. “Just sit in the seats, I guess. We’re just practicing walking.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes, following Dylan into the gym. “What the hell, they think you kids can’t walk?” he asked, looking around the people setting up the stage. “Huh,” he said quietly, looking around, eyes wide.

 

“What?” Dylan asked, pulling off his sunglasses, handing them back to his father.

 

Dean shook his head, still looking around in awe. “Never went to mine,” he said finally, slipping Dylan’s sunglasses into his jacket pocket. 

 

“What about Mom’s?” Dylan asked, shrugging off his jacket. “You can just sit here,” he said quietly, setting his jacket down on one of the chairs.

 

Dean shook his head again, taking his seat. “Me and Dad were on a hunt…we missed it.” He sighed, looking up at Dylan as he crossed his arms. “Well, I have the feeling that I’m gonna get to yours more than once,” he grinned, looking around as a couple of students already there stumbled into each other, “so maybe it’ll make up for it.” He lifted his leg, gently nudging Dylan. “You gotta put on your cap and gown?” he asked.

 

Dylan shook his head, glancing over and waving when a small girl and a boy with hair in his eyes waved over at him. “Not yet. Wednesday. Thanks for driving me.”

 

Dean nodded and waved his hand, yawning loudly. “I’ll take ya out for some Subway after this. I could so go for some Italian herb and cheese right now.” He groaned and rubbed his stomach, licking his lips. “Now get over there before I actually make you introduce me to your friends.”

 

“Nah, you ain’t so bad,” Dylan assured him, slowly making his way over to Zoë and Adam. “Mom’s the worst.”

 

Dean laughed and nodded understandingly. “Oh yeah, I’ll be sure to let him know.” He rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck, glancing down at his watch. He settled into his seat and heard the music starting and he started to drift off. He sighed and slouched down in his seat, lips smacking.

 

“Is your dad falling asleep?” Zoë asked, nodding over towards the chairs.

 

Dean scratched as his arms and blindly reached down, grabbing onto Dylan’s sunglasses, pulling them on.

 

Dylan smiled and nodded, turning back to Zoë. “Uh yeah, I think he is. I woke him up sort of early this morning.” He watched Dean for another moment before just grinning and shaking his head, finding his place towards the back of the line. 

 

* * * *

 

Dean groaned loudly as he bit into his sub, nodding eagerly. “Oh yeah,” he muttered, licking the mayonnaise off his lips.

 

“Don’t you have to go back to work soon?” Dylan asked, reaching out for his soda. 

 

Dean shrugged, taking another large bite. “I’m gonna need another one of these,” he said, staring at his sub. “And who cares, I’m kind of sort of my own boss, Dylan.”

 

Dylan smiled and took a bite of his sub, nodding. “Yeah so um,” he took another drink, swallowing hard, “you’re not doing a very good job of keeping me grounded.”

 

Dean snorted and shook his head, reaching out for his drink. “Jesus, don’t remind me. But I think it’s not so bad as long as I’m with you.” He took a bite of his sandwich, chewing thoughtfully. 

 

“Can you unground me for after grad?” Dylan asked hopefully. “Just for the party, Dad, and I swear that I’ll be home whenever you want me home. Please.”

 

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Stop begging,” he said. “And…I’ll talk to Sam. Of course, I’m sure he’ll say yes, but I’ll talk to him anyway. Now you, come on, talk to me.”

 

“About what?” Dylan asked, sitting up a little straighter. 

 

“Um, about where the heck you decided to go for next year,” Dean replied, cocking his head to the side. “In case you haven’t realized, I’m your dad. Which means I’m pretty entitled to know what you’re doing with your life.”

 

Dylan dropped his eyes, crinkling the corner of his sub wrapper. “Uh, I don’t know,” he grumbled, “I mean…I got scholarships to more than one and-- and--” he reached up, scratching his cheek, “you know--”

 

“I don’t know,” Dean interrupted, “that’s sort of the whole point. “I know that you accepted admissions somewhere, but neither me or Sam knows where the heck it is. I’m just wondering if you’re going to actually tell us before we drive you, or-- or buy the plane ticket.”

 

Dylan sighed. “I…” he rubbed at his eyes, taking a bite of his sub. “You don’t have to worry about money,” he said finally.

 

“I don’t care about money, Dylan,” Dean said. “And-- what, did you get a scholarship? ‘Cause that doesn’t help, you got scholarships to like, five universities. Dylan, just tell me or you’re not going. What the hell are you even taking?”

 

Dylan finally smiled, looking up at Dean. “Architecture,” he said proudly.

 

Dean’s face screwed up and he looked at Dylan in disbelief. “Architecture? You’re going to be a-- an architect?”

 

Dylan nodded eagerly. “Yeah. Well, I hope so.” He picked up his sub, taking a bite. 

 

“Why do you wanna be an architect?” Dean asked, still frowning. “Like…you wanna design buildings for your life? Really?”

 

Dylan sighed. “Is that a bad thing?” he asked. “I mean…do you hate it?”

 

“I don’t know anything about it,” Dean said, shaking his head. “I mean…design buildings, right? Who are you gonna design buildings for?”

 

Dylan shrugged. “I’m not sure. I think I’ll work for a company. I’m not gonna be like, a private architect. I’m not even sure that I’m gonna be an architect.”

 

“Then why take it?” Dean asked.

 

“Because I can,” Dylan replied simply. “I got a scholarship, I could do whatever I want. But the thing is, I don’t know what I wanna do. There’s really nothing that like, when I sit down and think about it, I can see myself doing for my entire life.” He smiled weakly. “It’s kind of scary, you know?”

 

Dean shook his head slowly. “Actually, I don’t. You should probably be talking to Sam about this, if you’re going to talk to anybody. But I mean, an architect. That sounds good to me. Design-- design houses and skyscrapers and airports and-- yeah. Dylan Winchester, architect.”

 

Dylan laughed softly, reaching out for his soda. “You guys couldn’t’ve named me anything more…professional sounding?” he asked. “I mean, sure, Dylan’s great for a student, but who’s gonna want a Dylan to design the new Grand Central Station?”

 

Dean laughed and shook his head, taking a bite of his sub. “Yeah well, sorry…Michelangelo.”

 

“He was a painter,” Dylan said, leaning forward over the table.

 

Dean sighed. “Yeah, I know, Dylan. But I don’t know the names of any architects.”

 

“Frank Gehry,” Dylan said quickly. “He’s-- he’s my favourite. You should see what he’s done.”

 

“Yeah?” Dean asked. “Well uh, tell me about him. What’s he done?”

 

“The Guggenheim in Spain,” Dylan began, “the Dancing House in Prague is amazing. In-- in Hanover, there’s the Gehry Tower--”

 

“Wait, wait,” Dean interrupted, raising his hand, “do you think that we can get a Winchester Tower?”

 

Dylan blushed and ducked his head, before nodding. “Well, I mean, I’m no Gehry, but that’d be cool.”

 

“Yeah, it would be,” Dean agreed. “Wow. So…architecture. My son the architect.” He took a bite of his sub and reached out for his soda. “So,” he began, swallowing it all down, “where exactly are you taking this?”

 

“Uh…” Dylan quickly took a drink, “Columbia.” 

 

“Columbia, huh?” Dean asked, thinking for a moment. “And where’s that again?”

 

* * * *

 

“No way,” Sam said, shaking his head furiously. “No way in hell is my son going to New York.”

 

“Why not?” Dylan demanded, watching Sam pace around the kitchen. “What’s wrong with New York?”

 

Sam’s mouth opened and he kept shaking his head. “What-- what’s wrong-- what’s wrong with New York? People die in New York, Dylan.”

 

Dean snorted and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, ‘cause people don’t die anywhere else in the country. Or the world, for that matter.”

 

“New York is…” Sam thought for a quick moment, “almost three thousand miles away. I don’t care how much you wanna be an architect; you can do it here.”

 

“But I don’t want to,” Dylan protested, “I wanna go to Columbia. It’s Ivy League for Christ’s sake.”

 

“Dylan, Ivy League isn’t for you,” Sam snapped.

 

“Why the hell not?” Dean asked, looking up at Sam. “He’s just as goddamn smart as all those rich, prep school assholes. Probably even smarter and he didn’t have to pay his way in.”

 

“It is on the other side of the country,” Sam said, crossing his arms. “So no. Case closed, end of discussion.”

 

“Mom, it’s too late to accept anywhere else,” Dylan pointed out, “and I don’t wanna go anywhere else! Why can’t I go to Columbia? Give me one good reason.”

 

“Other side of the country,” Sam repeated, slower the second time around, “that is why. I’m not letting my son leave home for the first time to go three thousand miles away.”

 

Dylan dropped his face into his hands, shaking his head. “This is retarded,” he muttered. “Like, seriously, Mom. Is this what Grampie did to you? Is that why you think it’s okay? Because it’s not.” He pushed himself up off the couch, storming down to his bedroom.

 

“Columbia,” Sam said in disbelief, shaking his head. “Columbia! Like there’s not plenty of good west coast universities. Could he have gotten any further away from us?”

 

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know. Miami? Canada. Canada definitely.”

 

“What did you say when he told you?” Sam asked, dropping down in the chair. “You told him right, he’s not going?”

 

Dean shook his head. “Hell no, I didn’t. I told him New York is awesome and that I’m really proud of him. He wants to be an architect Sam, he wants to have a real job. He wants what you wanted; how can you not be proud of him for it?”

 

“Oh, shut up, Dean” Sam snapped, “I have a real job. I mean, it’s not a lawyer, but it’s sure as hell a real job.”

 

“Okay, I didn’t really mean to say that,” Dean apologized, “but Sam, he’s right. This is the same thing that Dad did to you and you know that it’s not fair.”

 

“No, it’s completely different,” Sam said, shaking his head.

 

Dean raised an eyebrow, looking at Sam in disbelief. “Oh, really? How so? Dad told you that you couldn’t go Stanford…you’re telling Dylan that he can’t go to Columbia…” he waved his hands around. “Well?”

 

“Dad told me that I couldn’t go anywhere,” Sam pointed out, “and he said if I left at all, I couldn’t come back. I have no problem letting Dylan go to university. California, Oregon, Washington. Hell, Arizona, Nevada and Utah. I’d probably be willing to let him go to South Dakota, let Bobby watch him. But not New York.”

 

Dean shook his head, rubbing his face. “I’m not letting you tell him no.”

 

“And I’m not letting him go,” Sam said, “so I guess that we’ve got a problem, huh?”

 

Dean sighed and nodded. “Yeah, understatement much? Sam, it’s not like-- yes okay, he’d be moving out and he’d be on the other side of the country, but--”

 

“Where do you find the positive in that?” Sam demanded. “Dean, we know what’s out there, we know what can happen! If something happens to him in New York, it takes us hours to get there to protect him. And besides, do you know how many people are mugged in New York? In a day? You can’t walk down the street at night without getting attacked.”

 

“Sam, that’s crap and you know it,” Dean said, trying to not laugh at Sam’s ridiculousness. “New York just has a bad rap. You’re the guy who wanted to move us next to LA. Can you honestly say that that’s much better?”

 

“At least here we can protect him!” Sam exclaimed. “You know what? Fuck it, I’m not letting him leave.” He shook his head and started off towards the master bedroom.

 

“This is gonna come back later to bite you on the ass,” Dean said, leaning back on the couch, wincing when Sam slammed the door behind him. “Sam!” he yelled, pushing himself up on his knees. “Don’t be an ass about this!”

 

Sam began pacing around the bedroom, breath coming quickly, whimpering softly, looking around wildly. His eyes began to fill with tears and he dropped down onto the edge of the mattress, starting to cry. He brought his feet up onto the bed, sniffling and wiping furiously at his eyes. 

 

Dean swallowed hard and pushed himself off the couch, walking around to the bedroom. He knocked lightly on the door, pushing it open. 

 

Sam dropped his feet back down onto the floor and wiped at his eyes and cheeks, sniffling, obviously not wanting Dean to know that he had been crying.

 

“Sorry that I called you an ass,” Dean muttered, walking into the room.

 

“Whatever,” Sam said, shaking his head. He let out a breath and sniffled again. 

 

“Why you crying?” Dean asked, walking over to the bed, sitting down beside Sam. He wrapped an arm around Sam, leaning up to give him a kiss. “Don’t cry Sammy, I hate it when you cry.”

 

“I don’t want him to go,” Sam said quietly, looking down at Dean, “does that make me a bad person?”

 

Dean shook his head. “You think I really wanna watch him go to New York without us? But it’s sort of this thing Sam, where teenagers don’t listen to their parents.”

 

Sam sighed loudly, scratching at his cheek. “Maybe if I just-- maybe if I tell him that if he leaves he can’t come back, he’ll stay,” he said hopefully.

 

Dean groaned and pushed himself away from Sam, standing up quickly. “Sam, what the fuck? Why would you even try that? It sure as hell didn’t work with you!”

 

Sam toed his socks off and climbed his way up to the head of the bed, dropping down, face in his pillow. “Leave me alone,” he snapped, tears beginning to leak onto the fabric. 

 

Dean swallowed and sighed, shaking his head, walking back out of the bedroom. 

 

Dylan moved the mouse on his laptop, pressing the volume button a couple of times, turning up his music. He sighed and scratched at his head, blinking a couple of times as he opened his email.

 

“Dyl!” Dean called, making his way down the hallway. “Turn that down!” He knocked on Dylan’s bedroom door, waiting until the music went quieter. “Thank you.” He yawned and looked back down the hallway, shaking his head before just sliding down the wall, dropping to the floor.

 

Dylan looked up at the thump and sighed, swinging his legs off the bed. He walked over and pulled open his door. “If you want in, come on.”

 

Dean looked up at Dylan before standing up, following him back into the bedroom.

 

Dylan walked back over to his bed, dropping back down, going back to his laptop. 

 

“So, what’re you doing?” Dean asked, looking around Dylan’s room before pulling out the chair from his desk, slouching down. 

 

“Nothing,” Dylan replied, “just…I don’t know, talking, reading,” he looked over at Dean, “stuff on Columbia’s website.”

 

“Right,” Dean said quietly, nodding his head. “I uh, I apologize for Sam.”

 

Dylan shook his head. “Don’t. He’s being an idiot.”

 

“Well yeah,” Dean agreed, “that may be true, but he’s trying to do it for you. For what’s best for you.”

 

“What’s best for me is my parents supporting what I want to do with my life,” Dylan said pointedly, cocking an eyebrow at Dean. “That would be nice.”

 

“Did you ever maybe think about discussing what you wanna do with your life with your parents?” Dean asked, leaning forward. “Because maybe Sam would have a better time of dealing with it if you talked to us before you told them yes.”

 

“Whose side are you on?” Dylan asked, straightening up.

 

“Nobody’s!” Dean exclaimed. “Dylan, I get that you wanna go. I really do. I-- talking to you today at lunch, I know that you want this. And I really don’t understand why Sam is saying what he is, but I mean…I can get why he doesn’t want you to go. And I think that if you think about it, you know why too.”

 

“I can protect myself,” Dylan snapped, going back to reading the screen.

 

Dean sighed and shook his head. “It’s not just about protecting yourself, it’s about us just--”

 

“Babying me?” Dylan interrupted. “Because I’m not a baby. I want to go to Columbia. I am going to Columbia and you know what? If Mom doesn’t like it then-- then fuck him.”

 

“Hey!” Dean protested. “No, uh-huh, don’t talk like that.”

 

“Sorry,” Dylan apologized quietly, shoulders hunching. “I just…he isn’t being fair. He won’t even talk to me, he’s talking at me and--”

 

“He’s in our bedroom right now,” Dean said, “crying. Take from that what you will.”

 

“He’s not sad,” Dylan said, “he’s not sorry. He’s just pissed off because I don’t do whatever he tells me anymore.”

 

Dean smiled to himself, nodding slowly. “Yeah,” he breathed.

 

Dylan cocked his head to the side. “What?” he asked.

 

Dean shook his head, waving his hand. “You uh…when you were a kid. Not when you were like, five, but when you were…god, two? Two, you would never listen to Sam.”

 

“Yeah?” Dylan asked, closing the page on his laptop. “Really?”

 

Dean nodded. “You’d do whatever I told ya. Bobby, Dad. But you just couldn’t listen to Sam. He hated it. Hated me a bit too. He’d always had problems with you. He’d never been around kids, not babies before you, you know?”

 

Dylan nodded dumbly. “Yeah, he’s said.”

 

“Yeah well,” Dean shrugged, “he took it hard. Parenthood. It was just sort of second nature for me, I mean, I watched him all the time when we were kids, but he had a-- a lot of problems.”

 

Dylan swallowed hard and reached out, closing his laptop, leaning back. “Like, like what?” he asked, trying to stay casual.

 

Dean shook his head. “Some of those things aren’t my place to say, Dyl. Talk to him. All I can say is…I always-- he always loved you.” He glanced over to Dylan’s bedroom door. “He’s just a couple of rooms away.”

 

Dylan swallowed again and nodded, slowly standing up, looking over at Dean. “You gonna come with?” he asked.

 

Dylan shook his head. “Nah. I’ll tell you my stories someday. Today’s day is Sam’s. Be nice to him, okay? I know sometimes he seems like a jerk, but he’s still learning. Every experience is a new one for him.” He smiled faintly. “I’ve already had to deal with people I love going away to school.”

 

Dylan nodded and opened his bedroom door, walking down the hallway, reaching to scratch at the back of his neck. He took a deep breath and pressed his ear to the bedroom door, hearing Sam inside. He lifted his hand and knocked, waiting for Sam’s response.

 

“Yeah?” Sam called quietly, lifting his head.

 

Dylan opened the door and walked inside, ducking his head. “Can I talk to you?” he asked quietly, shoving his hand into his pocket.

 

Sam nodded and pushed himself up, rolling onto his back. “What’s going on?” he asked.

 

Dylan sighed and sat down on the bed beside Sam, slowly laying back. “Dad told me that-- that you’ve…had problems with me, raising me.”

 

Sam frowned. “I don’t know what you mean.”

 

“Well, he said that when I was a kid, I would never listen to you,” Dylan explained, “and just that you’ve had a lot of problems with me and…I wanna know what they were.”

 

Sam shook his head. “I can’t tell you,” he said softly.

 

“Why not?” Dylan asked quickly. “It’s my life too, I wanna know.”

 

Sam shook his head again. “No, Dylan. I-- it was always hard enough, knowing that I was…a bad parent. Having Dean know. I made sure to never tell you because I don’t want you to think that I didn’t love you. I always did, I always have, always will. It was my issue, an issue with me. It had nothing to do with you.”

 

“I’d really like to know,” Dylan said softly, rolling onto his side to look at Sam, “if you’d be willing to tell me. Please?”

 

“Dylan,” Sam began gently, “if you think that you’re mad at me now…you’ll hate me after this.”

 

Dylan swallowed and shifted on the mattress, leaning down to rest his head against Sam’s chest, listening to his heart beat. “I could never hate you, Mommy,” he whispered, closing his eyes. He yawned softly, snuggling into Sam.

 

Sam smiled and kissed the top of Dylan’s head, gently running his fingers through Dylan’s hair. “Do you know what postpartum depression is?” he asked quietly.

 

“Heard of it,” Dylan mumbled, taking a deep breath.

 

“Okay then,” Sam said, nodding once before he cleared his throat. “After I had you, Dylan, I started to get really sick.” He kissed the top of Dylan’s head again, closing his eyes.

 

* * * *

 

“Everything okay in here?” Dean asked quietly, walking into the bedroom. “He asleep?” he asked, nodding at Dylan.

 

Sam nodded tiredly, still playing with Dylan’s hair. “Tired,” he smiled. “Told him everything.”

 

Dean sat down on the bed, bringing one of his legs up. “What’s everything?” he asked, reaching out to fix the hem of Dylan’s hoodie. “Everything?” he asked, leaning down to kiss Sam.

 

Sam nodded. “That’s why you sent him up here, isn’t it?” he asked, sitting up a little, Dylan clutching at his chest. “For me to spill my heart and soul about how much I love him?”

 

Dean shrugged. “Well, you do love him,” he said quietly. “I just thought that he should know why you’re so protective of him now.” He sighed. “How’d he take it?”

 

“Lot of crying,” Sam said, weakly smiling up at Dean. “He uh, I told him that it wasn’t his fault but I think he thought that-- that it was. He was just a baby.”

 

“Well, does he hate you for it?” Dean asked.

 

Sam shook his head. “No, he doesn’t. He still loves me, even though I left him alone in a motel room and tried to kill myself. With caffeine, but still…kid’s gonna get a complex.”

 

Dean snorted and climbed over Sam and Dylan, dropping down beside them. “As if he doesn’t already have one.” He leaned over, giving Sam another kiss. “He’s going to Columbia, Sam.”

 

Sam closed his eyes and nodded, taking a deep breath. “Yeah, I know.”

 

Dean smiled against Sam’s mouth. “Good. And we’re not going with him, Sam,” he continued.

 

Sam swallowed hard and nodded again. “Yeah, I know.” He opened his eyes, smiling up at Dean. “This is our home. I want to be here, for Dylan to come back to.”

 

Dean laid down, snuggling into the pillows, yawning. “I’ll unground him, for after grad. If he doesn’t wanna spend all of his time with his old parents.”

 

“We’re not old,” Sam said, shaking his head. “We’re…young. Virile. Sexy.”

 

Dean smirked and leaned down, kissing Sam again. “I’ll definitely take that third one.”

 

Dylan groaned softly, shifting on Sam. “I am right here, you know,” he grumbled, lifting his head, hair sticking up at all angles. 

 

Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head, kissing Dylan’s head. “Oh, go back to sleep, you lug. I’m effin’ tired.”

 

Sam laughed loudly, shifting under Dylan, wrapping an arm around his waist. “Yeah, some idiotic kid woke us up at three a.m.”

 

Dylan smiled, trying not to laugh. “Really? Who? That McCarthy kid next door?” He lifted his head and stuck his tongue out at Sam. “And didn’t I apologize for that?”

 

“Not enough,” Dean murmured, rolling onto his stomach. 

 

“Well, sorry,” Dylan said, settling back down onto Sam. “And how tired do you think I am? I was the one out.”

 

“Then shut up and get to sleep,” Dean said, smiling when he looked up. “And I’ll call the McCarthy’s and try to get them to keep their kid quiet.”

 

Sam cleared his throat and all three quieted down after that, the room filled with only the sounds of their breathing. Dean started to drift off a few minutes later, before a thought hit him.

 

“Who ya taking to prom on Saturday?” Dean asked suddenly, opening his eyes.

 

Sam frowned and looked down at Dylan. “Yeah, who’re taking?” he asked. “Are you even going?”

 

Dylan thought for a moment, before shaking his head. “Who knows,” he murmured. “I might make an appearance.”

 

Dean laughed. “Oh yeah, might grace them with your presence? How nice of you.”

 

Dylan shrugged. “I already had one good prom. It was…it was really good. I don’t need to go to another one.” He looked up at his parents, giving them a quick smile. “It has nothing to do with Danny.”

 

“What about that Zoë girl?” Dean asked, pushing himself up. “She’s uh, she’s pretty, isn’t she? Kind of small but you know…whatever.”

 

Dylan rolled his eyes, smiling as he shook his head. “Yeah Dad, I don’t think so. Prom, with a girl? No. I know how long it took me to get ready, I’m not going through that with someone three times as worse.”

 

Dean laughed again, nodding, lifting his hand to give Dylan a high five. “Hell ya, I hear ya there. Took this one girl to prom…hers, not mine. Good lord, and she didn’t even look that good anyway. Too much hairspray or something. Made me dizzy.”

 

Sam smiled and looked over at Dean. “So? How was she?”

 

“Pssh,” Dean snorted, “her hair was bad, dude, that had nothing to do with the sex. She was awesome. Why the hell do you think I took her anyway?”

 

“I think that I like sex with guys better,” Dylan said suddenly, running his fingers over the stitching in the comforter.

 

Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head, but Sam smiled, giving Dylan his own high five.


	33. Chapter 32

Title: Look What Love Has Done - Volume 3 - Chapter 32

Pairing: Sam/Dean

Disclaimer: Not mine

Rating: PG-13 this chapter

Summary: Dylan's last days at home before he goes off to Columbia involve a conversation with someone he hasn't spoken to in months.

Author's Note: Forget volume one, forget volume two; this is volume three 

 

seventeen years, three months and twenty-two days old

 

“Yup,” Sam nodded, moving around the kitchen, wiping off the counter. “Uh…” he glanced over at the calendar, squinting slightly, “what the hell is today? The third? Well anyway, he’s flying out on the twenty-first.” He wiped his hands off, crumbs flying into the trash and he straightened up. 

 

“Yeah, Danny’s thinking about not going back for his orientation,” Todd said.

 

Sam frowned. “Oh, really? Wow, how come?” he asked.

 

Todd shrugged, twirling his pen in his fingers. “I don’t know. He’s…I’m sure it’s just a phase. I’ll get him to go. But I’m thinking about taking a vacation sometime away from this Washington weather. I’m a Cali boy, after all. Would that be a bad thing, to visit?”

 

“No, no, that sounds nice,” Sam assured him. “You’ll have to come down and see us then.” He cleared his throat. 

 

“Are you sure?” Todd asked. “‘Cause I mean, I know that nothing was really ended on good terms--”

 

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Sam insisted. “Just ‘cause our kids are--” he cut himself off when the door opened, Dean and Dylan stepping inside. 

 

“Hi, Mom,” Dylan said, giving Sam a quick wave before turning around, yanking his new suitcase through the door.

 

“Hi,” Dean said, walking over to give Sam a kiss. “Who’re you talking to?” he asked loudly, looking at the phone.

 

Sam’s eyes darted over to Dylan and he shook his head a little, turning away. “I’ve uh, I’ve gotta let you go, okay?”

 

“Yeah, I’ll talk to you later,” Todd agreed, turning off his phone. 

 

Sam smiled and closed his phone, giving Dean a quick kiss. “Nobody. So what’s going on?” he looked past Dean. “What’s this?”

 

“My new suitcase,” Dylan said, letting out a deep breath as he sat down at the dining table. “Nice, huh?”

 

“Yeah, I guess,” Sam nodded, grinning over at Dylan, “very…casey.” He walked over, crouching down, quickly examining the bag. “Don’t you already have a suitcase?”

 

“I thought I might need two,” Dylan explained, kicking off his sneakers. “I will sort of be taking everything I own.”

 

Sam’s smile disappeared and he nodded sadly, standing up slowly. “Right. Yeah, right, good point. So uh, you’re not packing yet, right? Still got a couple of weeks.”

 

Dylan nodded. “Yeah, I know. I just wanted to have it.” He stood up and swiped his shoes out of the way, grabbing onto the suitcase. “I’m just gonna…” he began pulling, glancing backwards to make sure he didn’t run over the dog. “C’mon, Chuck,” he said, struggling once the plastic wheels hit the carpeted floor, “help me out here.”

 

“Need any actual help?” Dean asked, smiling when Dylan just shook his head. “Okay, so…you’re fine with this, right?” he asked, looking up at Sam.

 

“Yeah, of course,” Sam assured him, turning around to go back to wiping off the counter. “I’m fine.” He took a deep breath. “Just got butterflies in my tummy.” He lifted up his phone, making sure that the counter underneath was clean. 

 

“And you’re using cleaning,” Dean began, looking around, “as therapy. Well, that’s sort of lame. Especially since I can think of more interesting things to do.”

 

“It’s not therapy,” Sam grumbled, “it’s-- I want Dylan’s last memories of our house to involve it being clean. Nothing wrong with that.”

 

Dean stepped back and stared at Sam in disbelief, shaking his slowly. “Okay, that’s retarded. But…I’m not going to judge you because of it. At least not out loud.”

 

“Aren’t you scared?” Sam asked, turning around. “Or-- or nervous? Or anything?”

 

“He’s here for almost three more weeks, Sam,” Dean pointed out, “there’s no point getting all worked up now and spending those last three weeks a nervous, cleaning mess. Am I right or am I right?”

 

“Well, I don’t know Dean,” Sam said, finally smiling again, “it’s just too close to call.” He shook his head and picked up his cell phone, slipping it into his jeans. 

 

“So, who were you talking to?” Dean asked, following after Sam’s phone, slipping his hand into the pocket. He got his fingers around the phone before Sam turned away. “Sam, I don’t deal well with secretive phone conversations.” He cocked his eyebrow. “So--”

 

“It’s not like that, Dean,” Sam interrupted. “It was Todd.”

 

“Oh,” Dean said in relief, “what’d he want?”

 

Sam shrugged before just shaking his head. “We just talk sometimes. We’re still-- I mean…we were friends with him for sixteen years.”

 

“Yeah, I still talk to him too,” Dean admitted quietly. “I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to or not. I don’t think that Dylan would like it.”

 

Sam leaned forward, trying to see if Dylan had come up from his bedroom yet. “Do you know whether him and Danny still talk or not?”

 

Dean shook his head. “I mean, I don’t know. I doubt it. He’s only even mentioned him, what? Three times? Not healthy.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes. “If Dylan doesn’t wanna talk about him, then that’s fine. Don’t you hate the kid anyway?” he pointed out. 

 

“Yeah, sort of,” Dean replied, “no. I don’t know. I mean, he broke my kid’s heart, but he’s still the kid that-- he’s still the kid that Dylan grew up with. They were best friends before all this.”

 

“Okay,” Dylan said, walking through the living room, “there’s not really a lot of space for that thing in my room. But luckily, it won’t be there for long, right?”

 

“Right,” Sam nodded, straightening up. “So what are your plans for the rest of this lovely Saturday?” he asked, slipping his hand into his jeans, grasping onto his phone. “Do you work tonight?”

 

Dylan shook his head. “I don’t know what I’m doing. What about you guys?”

 

Dean and Sam looked at each other and Dean just shrugged. “We don’t make plans very often. We’re kind of lame like that, huh?”

 

“We could all do something together,” Sam suggested hopefully, glancing back and forth between Dean and Dylan. “Or not. Whatever.” He gave them both a quick smile and nodded, walking into the living room.

 

“Uh, is he okay?” Dylan asked, watching Sam sit down on the couch. “Or is this still part of the Columbia thing?”

 

“Still part of the Columbia thing,” Dean replied. “He’ll get better though, I think. Once you’re gone, but he’ll be better.” He glanced in the living room after Sam, grinning. “Hey, you know what would take his mind off of things?” He leaned over to Dylan, mouth by his ear. “Get some crackers, some bread…crumbs, all over the counter.” He pulled back. “Huh? Huh? Sounds fun, right?”

 

Dylan frowned at Dean, shaking his head slowly. “Uh…you know what? I think I’m gonna go…do anything but that. Kay?”

 

“Whatever,” Dean muttered, leaning against the counter, “party pooper.”

 

* * * *

 

“Are you even watching your sister?” Michael yelled from the back door. “Albany, she is--”

 

“I’m watching her!” Albany yelled back, flipping his hair out of his eyes. “Jesus, Dad,” he muttered, pushing himself up off grass to move closer to the pool. “Don’t drown, Lori,” he snapped, opening his book.

 

“Yeah, Cillian’s out there too,” Michael said, turning back to Dylan. “So, you getting excited? Nervous? A week or something now, huh?”

 

Dylan nodded as he walked out of the house. “Yeah. Um…I don’t really know. Excited, I guess. Nervous.” He flashed Michael a quick smile and waved over at Lorelai, sticking his tongue out as she splashed around in the pool. “Hi Al,” he said.

 

Albany lifted his hand, waving absentmindedly over at Dylan.

 

Dylan tripped on the leg of a lawn chair, stumbling as he reached out, grabbing onto the chair. “Hi Cillian,” he said, walking over to him. “What’s up?” he asked casually, sitting down on the grass beside Cillian. 

 

Cillian looked up at Dylan, pushing his glasses back up his nose. “Hi,” he said softly, rolling over onto his stomach, resting his head on his arms. He sighed and watched Albany with Lorelai. “Nothing much. Baby-sitting.”

 

“But your dad’s right over there,” Dylan pointed out, “and Albany’s like, thirteen.” He ran his fingers through the grass before awkwardly lying down beside Cillian, folding his arms under his chin. “So what’s going on?” he asked, looking over at Cillian.

 

“Nothing,” Cillian said again. “When’re you leaving?”

 

“Little more than a week,” Dylan answered, settling into the grass. 

 

“Oh,” Cillian said quietly, “are you going to come over again?”

 

Dylan shrugged and pushed himself up, rolling onto his back. “If you want me to. Yeah, sure, of course. I’ll see you the day I leave, before I go to the airport.”

 

Cillian nodded slowly, stretching out on the grass. “Kay. Sounds good.” He smiled weakly, looking over at Dylan. “You nervous?”

 

Dylan snorted and rolled his eyes before nodding jerkily. “Yeah, I guess. Yeah. Everybody keeps asking me that…kind of makes me more nervous. Like everybody knows something that I don’t and I’m supposed to be nervous.”

 

“It’s just far away is all,” Cillian explained. “I’ve never been past…Tennessee.”

 

“Been further than me,” Dylan pointed out. “Kansas.”

 

“Are your parents flying out with you?” Cillian asked. “Or are you going by yourself?”

 

“I think Mom’s going with me,” Dylan replied. “Neither of them were going but…”

 

“He’s a lot more worried than your dad?” Cillian offered, to which Dylan nodded. “Yeah, ever since we found out where you were going, Dad keeps trying to convince me and Albany to stick close.”

 

“What’s your mom say about that?” Dylan asked.

 

Cillian shook his head quickly. “My mom is…she doesn’t care.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Dylan said softly, looking over at Cillian. “I…I hate her for how she’s acted towards you guys. She’s a bitch.”

 

“She’s getting remarried apparently,” Cillian said, pushing himself up a little. “To some…fucktard, I’m sure.”

 

Dylan smiled, not used to hearing Cillian swear. “Somebody should-- should give her something.”

 

“A fist in the face,” Cillian muttered.

 

“I was thinking more along the lines of like…a disease,” Dylan admitted, looking over at Cillian again. “To make her sterile.” He gave Cillian a friendly push, sitting back up. “So, what do you wanna do?”

 

Cillian sat up and shrugged. “I don’t know.” He dropped his eyes for a moment, nodding. “What happened with you and Danny anyway?”

 

Dylan’s eyes widened quickly and he swallowed hard, shaking his head. “Oh uh, no-- nothing. Nothing. We just…broke up. Ended it. I think it was for the best anyway. I’d be going to Columbia and he’d still be on the west coast and that would never work, so-- so I’m sort of happy that he dumped me.”

 

“Ouch,” Cillian breathed, looking over at Albany and Lorelai. “Um, well, I don’t really have anything in particular that I wanna do, so if you’re fine just hanging out here, we can swim or something. They won’t bother us much.”

 

“They don’t bother me,” Dylan said, pushing himself up. “They only bother you, Cill.”

 

Cillian smiled and pushed himself up, looking over at his siblings. “I wish Lori had been a boy. She doesn’t really fit in with the male vibe we’ve got going here.”

 

Dylan rolled his eyes and gave Cillian another playful push. “You’re an idiot, Cillian. This whole house would just be a major sausage fest without her.”

 

“Dude!” Cillian exclaimed, laughing. “She’s my little sister! Don’t talk about her and sausage fests, it’s weird.”

 

Albany looked up from his book, feet swinging back and forth in the cool water of the pool. “What are you guys gonna do?”

 

“Nothing, Albany,” Cillian said slowly.

 

Albany swallowed and dropped his eyes sadly, before Dylan walked over to him, clasping onto his shoulder. 

 

“We don’t know,” Dylan said, “but if we do do something, we’ll let you know, okay?” He smiled down at him and walked back over to Cillian. “By the way Lorelai, your dive is very nice.”

 

“Thank you!” Lorelai called from the pool. “Did you hear that Albany?”

 

“Did you ever learn to dive?” Cillian asked, opening the door, stepping inside the house.

 

Dylan snorted. “God no. After the concussion my parents didn’t let me anywhere near anybody’s pool for like, a year.” He grinned over at Cillian. “I can still kick your ass at swimming, dive or no dive.”

 

Cillian rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. I’ll take you anytime, anyplace.”

 

“Good,” Dylan nodded. “Right here, right now.” He sighed, glancing down at your clothes. “I just need to borrow a pair of your swim trunks.”

 

* * * *

 

Dean stretched out on Sam, rubbing his cheek against Sam’s chest.

 

Sam groaned softly, gently pushing at Dean’s head. “Shave,” he whined. “Hurts.” He wiggled under Dean, getting out from under him. He sighed and reached up, adjusting his pillows. “Itchy.”

 

Dean smiled and pushed himself up, straddling Sam’s hips. “But I like my sexy scruffies.” He smiled and leaned down, rubbing his cheek against Sam’s.

 

“Dean!” Sam exclaimed, trying to push him off. He laughed loudly, “come on, don’t do that. You’re so annoying sometimes, you know that?”

 

“I do,” Dean nodded slowly, cupping Sam’s cheeks, leaning down to give him a kiss. He smiled against Sam’s mouth, kissing him again. “I do,” he repeated, straightening up a little. “I like the sound of that.”

 

Sam swallowed hard, looking up to meet Dean’s eyes. “Are we gonna have this conversation again?” he asked. “How long are you gonna keep pushing this? You know that we can’t get married, Dean.”

 

“Hey, gay marriage is legal now,” Dean said pointedly.

 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah, and we’re brothers,” he pointed out. “That’s not legal.” He gave Dean a sad smile, leaning up to kiss the tip of Dean’s nose. “Right?”

 

Dean sighed and nodded, moving off of Sam, dropping down beside him. “You ever wish that maybe the story we told people was true? That Dad was my dad and we were like brothers but we weren’t and--”

 

“No,” Sam interrupted, shaking his head. “I don’t. Because in that version, I have a deadbeat dad and your mother has just mysteriously disappeared. That version sucks, Dean. And I like being your brother. I’m proud of it. You’re a great guy.”

 

“It’s just hard sometimes,” Dean muttered, rolling onto his side. “And maybe everything would just be a lot easier if it was true. Easier on Dylan too.” He curled up against Sam and closed his eyes, snuggling into him. 

 

Sam smiled and wrapped his arm around Dean’s shoulders, pulling him in closer. “Wait, do we have to pick up Dylan?” he asked, lifting his head. 

 

Dean shook his head, letting out a deep breath. “You ever think about what a day would be like without having to worry about Dylan?” he asked.

 

Sam frowned, glancing down at Dean. “Uh, no, not really. I know what life was like without worrying about Dylan. It meant I had to worry about you, which isn’t much better.” He thought for a moment, before smiling faintly. “You’re starting to worry about him as much as I am, right?”

 

“No,” Dean grumbled, “I’m not. Because you’re the worrywart, not me. I’m the fun dad, the fun dad who’s-- what am I trying to say here, Sammy?”

 

“That you’re scared about your son leaving home?” Sam offered gently. “It’s okay to be scared, Dean. I’ve accepted the fact that I’m going to cry myself to sleep until like, October. Until October thirteenth.” 

 

“Why October thirteen--” Dean began, before cutting himself off. “Oh, right. Well, maybe we can visit him that weekend? It is a weekend, I think. We’ll make sure that he’s safe.”

 

“If something happens, how are we supposed to explain it to his roommate?” Sam asked. “I don’t think that we thought this thing through very well.”

 

Dean groaned loudly and rolled onto his stomach, pulling his pillow over his head. “Why couldn’t he just…stay here?” he asked, squeezing his eyes shut. 

 

Sam shook his head and reached over, flicking off the lamp. “Who knows,” he murmured, moving down under the sheets, lying half on Dean, running his fingers over Dean’s skin. “Love you though.”

 

Dean pulled the pillow off his head and nodded. “Yeah, I know. Love you too.” He sighed, fingers curling into the sheets. “Do you think that maybe we should both fly with him to New York?”

 

Sam nodded, cheek rubbing against Dean’s back. “Yeah, if you want.” He turned his head, kissing Dean. “Sounds nice to me,” he said tiredly, snuggling in closer to Dean.

 

* * * *

 

Dylan rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck. “God, I hope they didn’t lock the door,” he muttered, moving his hand to the door handle. 

 

“You don’t have a key?” Cillian asked, glancing over at Dylan. “Uh, shitty. I could’ve driven you home earlier.”

 

Dylan shook his head, waving his hand. “Nah, it’s fine. If it’s locked, I’ll just go around back and knock on their window until they wake up or something.” He smiled quickly over at Cillian. “I had fun today, Cill. I will definitely be back over before I leave.”

 

“Promise?” Cillian asked hopefully, letting out a sigh of relief when Dylan nodded. “Okay, cool. I’ll talk to you later then.” 

 

Dylan moved to push the door open, before sighing and dropping back in his seat. “Are you okay, Cillian?” he asked, glancing over at him. “You can talk to me, you know.”

 

Cillian shook his head. “No, it’s nothing,” he assured him.

 

“Okay, are you sure?” Dylan asked, shifting in his seat. “‘Cause I know that we haven’t been as close since me and…” he nodded, “but I can still listen.”

 

“What’s sex like?” Cillian asked suddenly, looking over at Dylan.

 

Dylan stared at Cillian in disbelief before letting out a deep breath, shaking his head. “Jesus, Cill, I thought it was something serious for a second. God.”

 

“It is serious!” Cillian exclaimed. “I-- Erin, she wants to have sex and I’ve never done it before.”

 

“Well, neither has she, right?” Dylan pointed out. “She won’t know any better than you do.” He shook his head, reaching over to pat Cillian’s shoulder. “You’ll make it through just fine. Is that all?”

 

“Are you gay?” Cillian asked.

 

Dylan swallowed hard and turned, looking out the windshield. “Uh, ha,” he shook his head, scratching at his temple, “yeah. No. No. I’m not gay.”

 

“Are you straight?” Cillian continued.

 

Dylan shook his head quickly. “No, definitely not. I’m bi. You straight?” he asked.

 

Cillian nodded. “Yeah.”

 

“Alright then,” Dylan said, pushing open the car door. “Tell everybody hi, or goodnight or something. I’ll see you later.”

 

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” Cillian said quickly. “So, sorry. I was just wondering. I mean, I know you slept with Stacy but I know you dated Danny. I figured that a week before you go is when I should get up the courage to ask.”

 

“I’m not offended,” Dylan assured him, “I’m just tired. I’ve gotta go. I’ll talk to you later.” He pushed the door closed, giving Cillian a wave as he jogged over to the door. 

 

Cillian checked his rear view mirror and began pulling out of the driveway, making sure that Dylan got into the house before slowly starting off down the street. 

 

Dylan rubbed at his neck, walking slowly into the house, careful not to bump into anything. He sighed and patted his pockets for his phone, pulling it out, going through the numbers as he walked down to his bedroom. “Hi, Chuck,” he said, stepping around the sleeping dog. He swallowed hard, thumb hovering the call button, before finally just pressing it as he walked into his bedroom. He slowly moved the phone up to his ear, dropping down onto his bed. 

 

“Hello?” Danny asked, yawning softly.

 

Dylan swallowed hard and closed his eyes, crossing an arm over his chest. He opened his mouth but couldn’t get any words to come out.

 

“Hello?” Danny asked again, pushing himself up on his bed. “I have caller ID you know, all I have to do is check--”

 

Dylan turned off his phone and dropped it onto the floor, sniffling loudly. He brought his feet up onto his bed, toes curling. 

 

Danny looked at the screen on his phone, instantly recognizing the number. He sighed and frowned, ready to call Dylan back before finally just shaking his head, setting his phone back down.

 

A nauseous feeling was spreading in the pit of Dylan’s stomach and he curled up further on himself, eyes filling with tears. He sniffled and wiped at his eyes, crawling up to the head of his bed, dropping down, pulling at his blankets. 

 

* * * *

 

“Dylan!” Sam called, making his way down the hallway to Dylan’s bedroom, knocking on the door. “Wanna open up?”

 

Dylan’s eyes opened slowly and he sniffled, lifting his head from his pillow. “It’s open.”

 

Sam pushed open Dylan’s bedroom door, raising an eyebrow at the sight of Dylan in bed, although completely dressed. “Uh, I gotta talk to you about something.”

 

“Yeah?” Dylan asked, stretching out in his bed as he rolled onto his back. 

 

“Why’d you call Danny last night?” Sam asked, walking over to Dylan.

 

“What?” Dylan asked in surprise. “Uh, how did you--”

 

“Danny told Todd,” Sam began, “and Todd told me. And Dean. What’s going on? Why’d you call him?”

 

Dylan shook his head, scratching his cheeks. “It was a wrong number. I meant to call…Cillian. Cillian, Danny, they’re close together.”

 

Sam stared at Dylan in disbelief. “That’s the biggest load I’ve ever heard in my life, and I grew up with Dean Winchester. I’m not mad, Dylan, you don’t have to lie. I just…no good reason?”

 

Dylan shrugged. “He told me that he wanted to still be friends with me.”

 

“And last night you needed a friend,” Sam finished. “You were out with Cillian the whole day.”

 

“I can’t talk to Cillian the way I talk to Danny, Mom,” Dylan said. “I…I…love him,” he said finally.

 

“Loved,” Sam corrected. “Right?”

 

Dylan shook his head. “It was stupid, Mom. Okay? I just wasn’t feeling well and I thought that he would listen, if I asked.”

 

“You couldn’t talk to us?” Sam asked. “We’d listen. Are you okay? Is something wrong?”

 

“Just nervous, is all,” Dylan replied, “for school. Just wanted to talk. Can’t talk to you or Dad ‘cause then you’ll make me stay home.”

 

“We won’t,” Sam assured him, shaking his head, “we won’t. We uh, what would you think about Dean flying out with us to New York? He’s sort of getting nervous too.”

 

“Yeah, fine, whatever,” Dylan muttered, shrugging. “I’m not sure I wanna go anymore.”

 

“Dylan, it’s all going to be fine,” Sam said softly, rubbing Dylan’s shoulder. “You’ll be fine. I know it’s scary now, to think of being so far away, but it gets better. The homesickness goes away and you’ll be fine. Right?”

 

“But I’m leaving so much behind,” Dylan pointed out. “You and Dad, and Cillian and-- and Danny. In my head, he comes back…and we fall back in love. We can’t do that if I’m in New York.”

 

Sam swallowed hard and sighed, running his fingers through Dylan’s hair. “Dyl, this is your future. Don’t give it up for a guy. That’s not right. If he really wants you back, he’ll still be here when you’re done school.”

 

“Do you think I’m stupid?” Dylan asked. “‘Cause after…months of this, I still like him?"

 

“I don’t think you’re stupid,” Sam said, smiling at Dylan. “Nobody does. Danny might, ‘cause you woke him up at twelve-thirty to not say anything, but other than that, nobody thinks you’re stupid.”

 

“Maybe a little,” Dean said, pushing himself up from the doorway, “‘cause I told you to drop that kid in March. What’s going on?” he asked, walking in. 

 

“Why can’t my life just be my life for once?” Dylan groaned, dropping backwards onto the bed. 

 

“What the hell did you call him for?” Dean demanded, sitting down at the foot of the bed. “To-- to threaten his life? Tell me it was to threaten his life. ‘Cause I was supposed to break his neck, but Sam wouldn’t let me.” He brought his feet up onto the bed. “Fill me in on all the deets, Dylan.”

 

“He’s not sure whether he wants to go to Columbia,” Sam said, turning to Dean. 

 

Dean nodded slowly. “Okay well…I don’t know what to say about that, Dylan. We’re not paying tuition so I guess if it’s anybody’s loss, it’s yours.”

 

“He wants Danny to come get him,” Sam continued on.

 

“Yeah, that’s a big no,” Dean said quickly. “‘Cause if that ass steps one little jerry curl in California again, I’ll--”

 

“He still loves him,” Sam interrupted, “so you might wanna be careful about what you say around him.”

 

“Hey!” Dylan said suddenly. “You know who asked me about sex last night? Cillian. Oh yeah, that’s right. He asked me what it was like. Go bother him for once and leave me alone.” He grabbed onto his pillow, wrapping his arms around it. “I just miss him,” he said softly, closing his eyes. “I should’ve said something to him last night. I was upset in March, I overreacted. I should’ve stayed friends with him.”

 

Sam and Dean glanced at each other. “We’re gonna leave you alone,” Sam said, standing up slowly. “We’ll be in the kitchen. If you have the need to talk, come find us…not Danny. We’ll listen.” He reached out, giving Dean a push off the bed. “Or call Danny. Whatever. ‘Cause if you’re going to leave, I want you to leave being happy. Right, Dean?”

 

“I’ll be listening to the phone lines,” Dean said softly, giving Dylan a wink as he followed Sam out of the bedroom. 

 

“I am happy!” Dylan called after his parents. “Just confused!”

 

“Jesus, that kid’s confused more often than I change my underwear,” Dean muttered, walking into the living room. “Confused about where babies come from, where he came from, whether he’s straight or gay or--” He let out a deep breath. “We’ve got a week to get this sorted out. If he’s still in love with Danny, I’m not letting him get on that plane. As punishment.”

 

“What’s so wrong with still loving him?” Sam asked. “It’s to be expected. It’s only been a few months and-- and Danny was everything to him. Let him be, okay?”

 

Dean nodded and glanced back towards Dylan’s bedroom, sighing loudly. “It’s just hard to watch a kid go through that kind of thing, you know?”

 

“Well, hopefully in one week,” Sam began, sitting down on the couch, “he’ll be over all of this and just be on his way to being a happy freshman at an Ivy League university. That sounds nice, huh?”

 

“Yeah, sounds nice,” Dean agreed quietly, “but--” he looked down at Sam, leaning against the couch, “you think it’ll happen?”

 

“No,” Sam admitted. “He’ll be fine. His mind won’t even be on Danny by the time he leaves, are you kidding? He’ll be scared and nervous and just-- his mind couldn’t be any further from Danny. We just have to keep his mind off of it.”

 

“Are you gonna make us do some weird family outings or something, are you?” Dean asked worriedly. “Game night? Please Sam, anything but tha--”

 

“Just shut up and sit down for once,” Sam interrupted. “Just don’t bring him up and change the subject if anybody does.”

 

* * * *

 

Dylan sighed and smiled weakly back at his parents as they climbed out of the car. “Thanks for supper,” he said quietly, looking down at his left hand.

 

Sam cleared his throat and nudged Dean. “Uh, so…anything that you wanna talk about?” he asked, hurrying over to Dylan.

 

Dylan shook his head. “I need a shower. I’m fine.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, checking for his phone. “Do you have to use the bathroom before I go in?”

 

Sam shook his head, holding the door open for Dean as he walked in. “You should probably start packing sometime. Tonight or tomorrow. It’s gonna take awhile and I wanna know if you need a third suitcase.”

 

Dylan nodded and pushed open the bathroom door, toeing off his sneakers once inside.

 

“Are we gonna end up helping him?” Dean asked, shrugging off his jacket.

 

Sam snorted and grinned, nodding. “Yeah, probably. Maybe we should go start.”

 

“Hell no!” Dean exclaimed. “I’m gonna wait till he at least starts. Christ.”

 

Dylan reached into the shower and turned on the water, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He dialled the number as quickly as he could before he started to regret it. He looked around and sat down on the floor, leaning against the wall.

 

“I figured you’d call back,” Danny said, answering his phone. “Eventually. What’s in the background?” he asked.

 

“I’m in the bathroom,” Dylan replied, “shower’s on. So what, not even a hello?”

 

Danny sighed, dropping his pencil onto the coffee table. “Hi…Dylan. It’s nice to hear from you. Been awhile.”

 

“Yeah,” Dylan agreed quietly, nodding slowly. “So…you-- you remember when you said you thought we weren’t ending it right?” he asked.

 

“Vaguely,” Danny said flatly, “I just remember a lot of tears that day.”

 

“We didn’t end it right,” Dylan said. “At all. I didn’t say what I needed to say to you and in less than a week I’m gonna have a brand new life and-- and I need to get this out. My parents keep telling me to leave happy and I can’t do that right now.”

 

Danny frowned and straightened up. “I don’t get it. What new life?”

 

“Your dad didn’t tell you?” Dylan asked. “I’m…I’m going to Columbia. I leave for orientation in like, four days or something.”

 

Danny sighed. “Okay. And you don’t wanna go to New York with all of this still on your chest.”

 

“Right,” Dylan nodded. “So just…don’t interrupt and don’t talk and just let me say what I have to say so that I get over you and move on and find somebody else. A, you broke my heart. I loved you more than anything and you-- you invited me to Washington, introduced me to your dead mother and then dumped me.”

 

Danny opened his mouth to speak but Dylan just kept on going.

 

“B, I miss having you as a friend,” Dylan continued. “A real friend, what we were before we fell for each other. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. C, I still love you. My dad told me I’m an idiot, and I probably am, for not telling you that in March, for not somehow convincing you to take me back, but I love you. I always will. D, I’m not going to let you depress me any longer, Danny.”

 

“I’m not--” Danny began, but Dylan interrupted.

 

“Yes, I love you and yes, I miss you, but no, you are not my life,” Dylan said, “and I need you to tell me that I’m not yours. I need you to say that you don’t think about me. That you hate me or something, anything to help me move on.” His voice broke and his eyes began to fill with tears. “Please. Because what I’m doing now obviously isn’t helping and I need you to tell me that.”

 

Danny swallowed hard and took a deep breath, running his fingers through his hair. “Okay,” he said finally. “You’re not my life. I don’t think about you.”

 

Dylan nodded. “Okay, good. Thank you. I just…that’s what I needed to hear, I think. That you’re not my knight in shining armour and that-- that we have no future. I can’t go to New York thinking about you. You’ve been my life for the past three years and I am done.”

 

“Okay,” Danny nodded, “you’re done. Alright. Call me anytime, if you ever need to vent. Or something.” He took his phone away from his ear and turned it off, spinning it around on the coffee table.

 

“Okay,” Dylan breathed, nodding slowly. He sniffled, wiping at his nose with the back of his hand, head going back against the wall. “Why don’t I feel better?” he asked himself quietly. 

 

Danny rolled his lips into his mouth and stared at his phone in disbelief, eyes filling with tears. He sniffled and wiped at his eyes, looking up when Todd walked into the living room. “Dylan called,” he explained. “Told me-- told me he’s over me. Or something. I don’t know, he was talking really fast.”

 

Todd walked over to Danny and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, pulling him in. “It’ll be okay, Danny,” he said softly.

 

“I thought that he was calling me to-- to--” Danny’s voice broke and his head dropped forward, shoulders shaking, “to…” He began sobbing, squeezing his eyes shut. “I was such an idiot.”

 

Dylan pressed a couple of buttons on his phone, finally deleting Danny’s number. “He doesn’t think about me,” he said softly, swallowing hard. His breath hitched and his eyes closed. His eyes filled his tears, leaking down his cheeks. 

 

* * * *

 

“Please tell me that you have everything,” Dean said, leaning into Dylan’s bedroom. “Seriously. I’m not letting you pack anymore.”

 

Dylan nodded slowly, looking around his bedroom. “I um, I just…I’m taking it all in. This was always my room, right?”

 

Dean nodded. “Well, yeah, after we moved here. It was your nursery. First time you ever slept alone was in here.” He smiled and looked around. “You okay?”

 

Dylan nodded again. “Where’s Mom?” he asked.

 

“Putting your bags in the trunk,” Dean replied. “Or something. I don’t know. This room’s still gonna be here, Dylan. You’re coming back in a couple of months, right? At least for Christmas. Don’t worry.”

 

Dylan nodded and stood up slowly, grabbing onto his last bag. “Okay. Yeah. It’s just weird, I won’t be sleeping here tonight. Or tomorrow. And soon you guys won’t be there. It’s…weird. And Chuck, you know? You’re gonna feed him?”

 

Dean wrapped his arm around Dylan’s shoulders, leading him slowly down the hall. “It’s not time for goodbyes yet, Dyl. Save that for New York, okay? Chuck will be fine. He is mine, you know.”

 

Dylan nodded and smiled, kneeling down in front of the dog. “I’ve gotta go, Chuck,” he said softly, rubbing his back, “but I’ll be back. Be here, okay? Right? Be here. Be good. Love you buddy.” He wiped at his eyes, standing up when Sam walked back into the house.

 

“Ready?” Sam asked.

 

Dylan shook his head but started walking anyway. “He’ll miss me. You guys are-- I don’t wanna go,” he said softly, rubbing his stomach, glancing back at Dean. “Can I stay?”

 

“If you want,” Sam assured him, reaching out for him. “Whatever you want, Dyl. How’s about we go see Michael, and we go to the airport and if you’re not ready to go, then we won’t, okay? We’ll come home and unpack and it’ll be okay.”

 

Dylan nodded and looked back at Chuck, waving sadly. “O-- okay. Okay. Sounds okay.”

 

“Okay,” Sam said softly, kissing Dylan’s forehead. “It’s not as bad-- it gets better, Dylan. I promise. Once classes start you won’t have time to be homesick. Okay?”

 

Dylan nodded and squeezed his eyes shut, letting Dean lead him out of the house. “I don’t feel well,” he murmured, pushing at his hair. “My stomach’s upset.”

 

Dean nodded understandingly and opened the car door for Dylan, helping him inside. “Just let us now anytime, Dyl. You tell us if you don’t wanna go.” He opened the front door and climbed in, doing his seatbelt.

 

Sam climbed in beside Dean, glancing back at Dylan, giving him a smile. “You’ll be fine. I promise. You’re not gonna be the only homesick person there, Dyl.”

 

Dylan leaned his head against the window, taking a deep breath. “Bye house,” he said sadly, waving gently.

 

* * * *

 

“Where’s he going?” Lorelai asked, looking up at Michael. “Why is Cillian crying?”

 

Michael sighed and shifted Lorelai in his arms, looking over at Cillian and Dylan. “‘Cause Dylan is flying out today, to go to the other side of the country. He’s going to school, Lori. In New York.”

 

“Are Sammy and Dean going with him?” Lorelai asked. “Are they moving?”

 

Michael shook his head. “Nope. Dylan’s going by himself. Sammy and Dean are staying right here, I think. But Dylan’s going. Right?” he asked, looking over at Sam and Dean.

 

“Not sure yet, exactly,” Sam admitted. “He’s having a bit of trouble with it. I told him we can make the final decision at the airport. Of course, I wouldn’t be surprised if that extends to the New York airport.”

 

Dylan stared glumly at the dining room floor, toes digging into his sneakers. “We gotta go soon,” he said finally, voice rough. “Plane.”

 

Cillian nodded understandingly. “Yeah. Call when-- when you land, or something. Kay?”

 

Dylan nodded and looked up, trying to give Cillian a quick smile. “I’m sorry that-- that I let having a boyfriend sort of…get in the way of us being friends.”

 

Cillian shook his head. “I’m the one who didn’t like him. Besides, we went to different schools and everything. It’s whatever.”

 

Dylan half-smiled, reaching out to pull Cillian in for a quick hug. “Have fun with Erin, ‘kay?” he teased, pulling back.

 

“Hey!” Michael said. “What’s he mean by that?”

 

Cillian rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Thanks, Dyl. Don’t worry about here. California’s lame anyway.”

 

“But you’ll keep me updated, right?” Dylan asked. “On the lameness?”

 

Cillian nodded quickly. “Yeah, of course. Um…so just be cool, okay? Have fun and be careful.”

 

Dylan rolled his eyes, grinning. “You sound like my parents. Well, my mom anyway. You too, Cill. I know how those math competitions can get wild and out of hand.” He laughed loudly and looked over at his parents. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

 

“Yep, sure,” Cillian nodded.

 

“See ya later, Albany!” Dylan called up the stairs. He walked over to his parents and Michael, grinning at Lorelai. “You be good too, okay?”

 

Lorelai nodded. “Why are you going away for school?” she asked. “What’s wrong with here?”

 

Dylan shrugged. “Nothing’s wrong with here. I just wanna be there, is all.” He looked up at Sam and Dean. “I guess…we can go now. Our flight is soon, right?”

 

Sam nodded and smiled over at Michael. “Walk Chuck while we’re gone,” he said, waving at Lorelai. “Bye everybody.”

 

“See you guys in a couple days,” Dean nodded, following after Sam. “Bye.”

 

Dylan smiled over at Cillian as he walked by him again, waving. “I’ll see you later. Or…whenever. Bye.” He waved again, pulling the door closed behind him. He let out a deep breath and walked back over to the car, climbing in. “You think they’ll still be there when I come back?” he asked, leaning forward in his seat.

 

Dean swallowed hard and glanced in the rear view mirror. “Yeah, I’m sure they will. It’ll just be a little different.”

 

“You think Cill and I will still be friends when I come back?” Dylan corrected, sitting back in his seat when Sam and Dean simply glanced at each other.

 

* * * *

 

Dylan pushed himself up, looking around the airport wildly. 

 

“Who you looking for?” Dean asked, glancing over at Dylan. “Expecting somebody?”

 

Dylan swallowed hard and shook his head. “No. No, not really. Just wishful thinking, I guess.”

 

“What’s going on?” Sam asked, walking back over to them. “Who’s he looking for?”

 

“Wishful thinking,” Dean replied, taking a drink of his coffee. 

 

“It’s just…” Dylan sighed and looked down at his lap, “I told Danny. That I was leaving. I thought he might-- I don’t know. Call me or show up. Or something.”

 

“You thought he would, or you hoped he would?” Sam asked.

 

“I hoped,” Dylan said quietly. “Really. Even though I know it wouldn’t work, even though I have no idea what I’d do if it happened. I just wanted it to.”

 

“Well, after the children and old people get on, we’re going,” Dean pointed out. “You gonna change your mind? You wanna switch our tickets to Washington? What? You gotta let us know. Are we going to New York?”

 

Dylan nodded. “Yeah, we are.” He looked up at his parents. “I mean, we’re going to New York, not Washington. Yeah. New York.” He gave Sam and Dean a quick smile. “Right? That’s for the best, huh?” He looked up when everybody else, including them, were called for their flight. “It’s for the best.” He stood up, grabbing his carry-on. “Let’s just go, huh? Get on before I change my mind again.”

 

“This can’t be healthy,” Dean murmured, pulling out their boarding passes. “Seriously. He’s waiting for Danny to fly in from Seattle to-- to stop him from going to New York. What the hell does he think this is, Jerry Maguire?”

 

“That happened in that movie?” Sam asked, glancing back at Dean. “Are you sure? I mean, I never saw it or anything, but that doesn’t make any sense. What about Sleepless in Seattle?”

 

“They were both in Seattle,” Dean pointed out. “No New York. Or California.” He nodded a the flight attendant, following Sam and Dylan to their seats. “You good to go, Dyl?” he asked, sitting down.

 

Dylan nodded jerkily and sat down, closing his eyes. “How long is this flight going to take?”

 

“We have a layover in Chicago,” Sam began, “so…I don’t really know. More than a few hours, that’s all I know. No urge to get off?”

 

Dylan shook his head. “Not yet.” He looked out the window, smiling. “When’s the first time I’m going home again?”

 

Dean reached out and ruffled Dylan’s hair, pulling him in. “Just don’t even think about it, Dyl. Just say goodbye to California for now.”

 

Sam shifted, his too-long legs stuffed awkwardly between his seat and the person’s in front of him. “Christ,” he muttered, trying to get his seat to go back. His feet accidentally kicked the seat and he made a face, looking over at Dean and Dylan helplessly, who were just staring at him in disbelief.

 

* * * *

 

“Where do I go?” Dylan asked, looking up at Sam, staying close to his parents. He swallowed hard and could feel himself start to tremble, reaching out to grasp onto Sam’s shirt.

 

“How about the big check-in tent?” Dean offered, starting off in that direction. 

 

“There’s a lot of people here,” Dylan said softly, making sure not to let go of Sam. “I don’t like it.”

 

“It’s okay, Dylan,” Sam assured him, kissing the top of Dylan’s head, holding him close. “It’ll die down in a few days.”

 

“How long can you guys stay?” Dylan asked. “When do you leave?”

 

“I have to get back to work the day after tomorrow,” Dean said, pushing his way through the crowd, making it to one of the desks. “Uh, hi. Dylan Winchester. What do we get?”

 

The boy in front of him began going through a box of envelopes, towards the end of the group. “Winchester, Winchester,” he said quietly, grabbing an envelope. “Dylan John?”

 

“That would be him,” Dean nodded, taking the envelope. “And so now what do we do?” he asked.

 

“The key to his dorm room is in there,” the boy replied. “You can go check that out now. We’ve hired a moving company to help get everything in his room.”

 

“And how long will they be here?” Dean asked. “We’re going to pick up a mattress now.”

 

“For the next couple of days,” the boy assured him. “So definitely in a couple of hours. You might just have to wait a little, since everybody needs them. Do you or your son have any questions?”

 

“Where’s my dorm?” Dylan asked, looking over Dean’s shoulder. “I mean…directions.”

 

“Right,” the boy nodded, looking around. “Um, Piper!” he called, waving her over.

 

A girl about as tall as Dean began making her way through the crowd, smiling at Dylan. “Hi, I’m Piper,” she said politely, extending her hand to him. “You need help to your dorm?”

 

Dylan nodded. “Uh, yeah. I guess. Thanks.”

 

“Can I see your envelope?” Piper asked, already pushing herself back through the crowd, followed by the three men. She opened it up and nodded when she read his dormitory. “So you’re a freshman,” she said, glancing back at Dylan.

 

“Uh, yeah,” Dylan nodded, looking back at his parents. “Dylan Winchester.”

 

“Nice accent, Dylan,” Piper smiled, “where’re you from?”

 

“Fullerton,” Dylan replied. “California.”

 

“A surfer,” Piper grinned, nodding. “And you’re his parents?” she asked, glancing back at Sam and Dean. “Piper Bowman.”

 

“Sam and Dean Winchester,” Sam nodded, smiling at Piper. “So uh, what year are you?”

 

“I’m a sophomore,” Piper replied. “Feeling nervous?” she asked Dylan, pulling open the door to one of the buildings. 

 

Dylan nodded, smiling weakly. “Uh yeah, I guess so. Yeah, I am.” He cleared his throat and looked back. “When are we bringing my stuff up?” he asked.

 

“We’ll bring it up altogether,” Dean said, “after we get the mattress.”

 

Piper opened the door to the stairwell, starting up. “Don’t worry, you’re only the second floor. The elevator hasn’t been fixed from last year yet. But I’m sure that it will be by the time you get your mattress.”

 

“Thank God,” Dean muttered, holding open the door to the second floor. “Hey, maybe you’ll have some bodybuilder as your roommate and he’ll help us get it up.”

 

“Movers,” Piper reminded him. “And I think that your roommate is already here,” she nodded, knocking once on the door before stepping out of the way. “You can try the key,” she said.

 

Dylan grabbed his key before looking up when the door nodded, swallowing hard.

 

“Hi,” the guy said, moving out of the way. “You my roommate?” he asked.

 

Dylan nodded and walked into the room, smiling back at Piper. “Thanks, Piper,” he said, tongue wetting his lips. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

 

“Well, I do know where your room is,” Piper smiled, turning back around. “Nice to meet you,” she said, nodding at Sam and Dean.

 

“Ooh,” Dean said, walking into the dorm. 

 

“I’m Paul,” Dylan’s roommate said, reaching his hand out.

 

“Dylan,” Dylan said, shaking his head. “Nice to meet you.”

 

Paul nodded, sitting down by his boxes. “So, where you from, Dylan?”

 

“Fullerton,” Dylan replied, giving Paul a quick smile when he didn’t seem to recognize the name. “It’s by LA.”

 

“Whoa,” Paul said, nodding slowly. “LA. Pretty far. Connecticut. Hartford.”

 

“You okay here for a bit, Dylan?” Dean asked, glancing down at Dylan. “We’re gonna go run out and get the mattress, then try and get the rest of your stuff in here. Yeah?”

 

Dylan nodded. “I don’t think a queen’s gonna work that well in here.”

 

Dean looked around and nodded. “Yeah, oh well. You can fit in a double. Nice to meet you, Paul,” he said, giving him a quick smile. “If you’re not in here when we get back, we’ll just call you, okay?”

 

“Yup,” Dylan nodded, sitting down on the floor a few feet away from Paul. “Thank you.”

 

“Not a problem,” Dean muttered, waving as he walked out of the dorm.

 

“See you two later,” Sam grinned, following after Dean. “Nice room,” he said, hurrying after Dean.

 

“Nice girl,” Dean said, looking back at him. “Piper. That’s hot.”

 

“She’s a little young for you,” Sam laughed, shaking his head. “And a little old for Dylan.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes. “Same age as Danny,” he pointed out, pulling open the door. “You think he’s going to be okay?” he asked, walking outside.

 

“With Danny?” Sam asked. “Or with everything?”

 

“Everything,” Dean replied. “You think?”

 

Sam nodded and reached out, grasping onto Dean’s hand. “Yeah, I think. He’ll be fine.”

 

* * * *

 

“I’ll see you downstairs in a couple of minutes,” Paul said, waving and nodding at the Winchesters as he slipped out of their dorm room. 

 

Dylan looked up at Sam and Dean, shifting on his mattress. “Are you guys flying back now?” he asked, pushing himself up.

 

Sam nodded and reached out, pulling Dylan in for a hug. “Are you okay?” he asked. “Do you wanna stay? Or do you wanna come home with us?”

 

Dylan shook his head, resting against Sam. “No, I wanna stay.” He pulled back, swallowing hard. “I wanna try it.”

 

“Okay,” Sam smiled, kissing Dylan’s forehead. “I’m glad, I’m happy to hear it.”

 

“Yeah, proud of ya, Dylan,” Dean said, squeezing Dylan’s shoulder gently. “So you’re good here, huh? Paul nice? Does he snore?”

 

Dylan smiled and shook his head. “No, not really. I think I’m kind of a deep sleeper anyway. Danny snored but--” he cut himself off and just nodded. “Um, so…yeah. Thanks for coming out with me. I don’t think that I’d-- if you weren’t here, it would suck a lot more.”

 

“C’me here, kiddo,” Dean said, pulling Dylan in for a hug. “Okay,” he said, pulling back, “we need some ground rules. You can call us whenever. Whatever time, whenever you need us. Cell or home or work. And-- and if you want to come, that’s okay. We’ll buy you a ticket. You try your hardest. If-- if-- don’t use ADHD as an excuse but if it gets bad again, let somebody know.”

 

“Stay away from strawberries,” Sam spoke up. “Make friends, other than Paul. Study, don’t party all of the time. If you’re with somebody, be safe. No matter what. Be nice to people, even ones you don’t like.”

 

“Watch your powers,” Dean continued. “Don’t tell anybody the truth, as much as you think you can trust them. It’s a big school. You-- you just be a good kid, okay? You can play football, if they have it here, but be careful. Don’t be an idiot, you’re here on somebody else’s dime.”

 

“Okay,” Dylan nodded quickly. “Yeah.”

 

“If you miss us at all,” Sam said, eyes slowly filling with tears, “you-- like Dean said, call us okay. Even if you don’t miss us, just call us.” He sniffled and smiled weakly. “Please?”

 

Dylan smiled and nodded up at Sam. “Yeah, of course Mom. Once a day?”

 

Sam nodded eagerly. “Yeah, yeah, that sounds great. Okay. And-- and we’ll keep your room clean; don’t worry, we won’t turn it into a sewing room. We’ll take care of Chuck and-- and--” He pulled Dylan in for another hug, letting out a deep shaky breath. “You just…I love you, okay? Okay? You’re still my little boy.”

 

Dylan sniffled and nodded, pulling back. “I love you too, Mom. You’re still my mommy.”

 

Sam squeezed his eyes shut and began to cry softly, turning away from Dean and Dylan, holding his hand up to his mouth.

 

“I love you too, kiddo,” Dean said, hugging Dylan. “Okay? And I’m really proud of you. And Bobby is, you can call Bobby, he said it’s okay. And-- and Grampie would be really proud of you too, okay? I want you to know that. ‘Cause he loved you more than anything and--” he glanced back at Sam, reaching down to pick up his bag, “and there’s something that he always wanted you to have.” He pulled out a small black box and handed it to Dylan. “It was-- his father gave it to him on the day him and Mom got married. He gave it to me once and-- and when you were born he said that he wanted you to have it and I could decide when to give it to you.”

 

Dylan opened the box, studying the watch. “Wow, it’s-- it’s nice. Am I allowed to wear it?”

 

Dean nodded. “Yeah, of course. I know that it’s kind of old, but-- even if it stops working, you can still wear it. And don’t be afraid to get it fixed, I have.”

 

“Thank you,” Dylan said softly, closing the box, reaching down to set it on his bed. “I’m really gonna miss you guys,” he said, wiping at his eyes. “I love you both.” He nodded and sniffled, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. “If something happens--”

 

“Like what?” Sam interrupted, finally calming down.

 

“Like I get hurt,” Dylan explained, “or you get hurt, I love you. Both of you. No matter what. And I’m really sorry for everything that I’ve ever done wrong. But I love you.” He swallowed hard, trying to get past the lump in his throat and pulled Dean in for a hug, feeling Sam wrap himself around both of them. “I kind of have to get downstairs,” he said regrettably, moments later. 

 

“And we kind of have to get to the airport,” Sam nodded, pulling back from both of them. “So…I guess we both-- I guess we need to split up.” He smiled, reaching out to cup Dylan’s cheek for a moment. “You grew up…I’m really proud of the who you grew up to be, Dylan. Of who you are. Don’t forget that.”

 

Dylan smiled and nodded, wiping at his eyes. “I’ll call you guys later, when you land,” he said, tears running down his cheeks. He turned away from his parents, arms wrapped around himself, shoulders shaking.

 

Dean smiled, his own tears finally spilling over and he patted Dylan’s shoulder before turning, walking out of the dorm room.

 

“Bye,” Sam said softly, following Dean out of the room. He began to cry again, grabbing onto Dean’s arm, staying close to him. “I…”

 

“I know,” Dean nodded, wiping at his cheeks, “but he’ll be okay.”

 

Dylan sobbed quietly to himself, sitting down on his bed, knees up to his chest. He began to wonder whether he should go after his parents and fly back home, a heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach, before there was a knock at the door.

 

“Hi,” Piper said, smiling down at Dylan. “Your parents leave?”

 

Dylan nodded and looked away, wiping his cheeks furiously. “Ye-- yeah. Just now.”

 

Piper nodded slowly and walked into Dylan’s room, sitting down on the floor, long legs curled beneath her. “First time away from home?”

 

Dylan shook his head. “Just first time away from them.” He looked up at her. “I feel like an idiot.”

 

Piper shook her head, reaching out to pat Dylan’s knee. “It’s hard, being away from friends and family. But it’ll get better. And they’ll always be there; you can go back, you know.”

 

Dylan nodded and rest his head on his knees, taking a couple deep, shaky breaths. “I’ve never felt like this before. So…sick.”

 

“Yeah,” Piper said softly, “homesickness. You’ll wake up a couple of times in the middle of the night, but soon…all of the homework will get rid of that. Can’t wake up if you’re pulling an all-nighter.”

 

Dylan smiled, laughing softly through his tears. “Gotta go downstairs,” he muttered, pushing himself up off the bed. He reached down, offering his hand to Piper. He smiled at her, nodding. “Thanks. For not laughing.”

 

Piper smiled and rolled her eyes. “Are you kidding me? I’m the most hormonal girl you’ll meet, I do enough crying for everybody in this whole dorm. And I’m not here to judge.” 

 

They walked out of Dylan’s dorm, going down the hallway. “So, what’s your major?” Dylan asked, pushing the door open for her. 

 

“Art,” Piper replied, “or law. Technically I’m still undeclared. What about you?” she asked.

 

“Architecture,” Dylan said softly, going down the stairs, glancing over at her. “It’s…my own version of undeclared.” He wiped at his eyes and cheeks. “I’m not really sure why I’m taking it.”

 

Piper nodded understandingly and held the door open for Dylan, following him out. “Well, I’ve gotta go,” she said, seeing Paul waiting for Dylan, “but I think I’ll catch you around. You’re okay?”

 

Dylan nodded. “Yeah, thanks again.” He smiled over at Piper as he made his way over to Paul, taking a deep breath. “Well then, let’s go.”


	34. Chapter 33

Title: Look What Love Has Done - Volume 3 - Chapter 33

Pairing: Sam/Dean

Disclaimer: Not mine

Rating: NC-17 this chapter

Summary: Life seems pretty normal once it’s just Sam and Dean again.

Author's Note: Forget volume one, forget volume two; this is volume three 

 

eighteen years and four days old

 

Sam leaned against the car, swinging the keys around his finger, nodding to himself. He shifted, leaning back to watch the movers across the street, wondering who was moving in now. He sighed, looking back to their house, waiting for Dean to come out. 

 

Dean slipped his feet into his boots, fixing the hem of his jeans before straightening up, back cracking. He walked over to the window, smiling at Sam, deciding to waste a little more time. 

 

Sam pushed himself off the car and walked up the driveway a bit, frowning. “Dean?” he called, shoving the keys in his pocket.

 

Dean laughed, glancing down at his watch, before pushing the door open. “Three minutes,” he said, pulling the door closed behind him. “You’re getting patient in your old age.”

 

“I’m getting tired of snapping at you,” Sam said flatly. “Now, if you could please get in the car…please?” He tossed the keys over to Dean, walking over to the passenger side. He climbed into the car, dropping down on the seat. “I didn’t take today off for shits and giggles, Dean, we both have doctor’s appointments.”

 

“Hey, I just realized something,” Dean said, looking over at Sam. “We…have never had prostate exams before.”

 

“Uh, except that you have,” Sam reminded him, “to make sure the cancer didn’t spread. I’m the one who hasn’t had one.”

 

“Ah, why’s that, Sammy?” Dean grinned. “Scared? Nervous that you might like it?”

 

Sam rolled his eyes and shifted, leaning against the car door. “You’re such a jerk sometimes,” he murmured, but still, he smiled. “And I know that I would like it. I like it when you do it, don’t I?”

 

Dean snorted, raising an eyebrow. “I definitely don’t exam it, Sammy,” he smirked, winking. 

 

Sam sighed and reached down, turning on the radio. “How long is yours going to take?” he asked before he began singing along softly.

 

“Not sure,” Dean replied, pulling to a quick stop. “Not as long as yours, probably.”

 

“Mine’s an hour,” Sam said, looking over at Dean. “If you finish before that, will you wait for me?”

 

“Of course,” Dean nodded, glancing out the window. “Same for you, you little ass.”

 

Sam frowned at Dean, trying not to laugh. “Uh, what?” he asked. “When did we start the name calling thing?”

 

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m just-- I get twitchy on appointment days. Remission is a hard thing to maintain.”

 

Sam swallowed hard and his head lolled over, reaching out to play with the collar of Dean’s jacket. “Yeah, I know,” he murmured, smiling. “I’m happy that you’re willing to maintain it though.”

 

“You know that I really don’t maintain it, right?” Dean asked, looking over at Sam. “I mean, we covered it in biology, senior year, and I don’t remember all the exact details of cancer, but--”

 

“I know,” Sam interrupted gently, moving his fingers up from Dean’s collar to brush across Dean’s cheek. “But you said it and I was just…going along with it, is all.”

 

Dean smiled and turned his head, kissing Sam’s knuckles, nipping gently. “Yeah, okay. I wasn’t sure. I’m never really sure where-- where to take our metaphors or--”

 

“That’s not really a metaphor,” Sam pointed out. “I mean…I don’t know what it is. Not a metaphor.”

 

Dean pressed his foot down a little hard, glancing over at Sam. “Uh, is it just me…or have we gotten infinitely more boring in the past couple of months?”

 

“Oh no, it’s just you,” Sam assured him, grinning. “You’re the boring one here. Not me. I’m young, fresh. You’re--”

 

“Say old and I turn this car around,” Dean said, glancing in the rearview mirror. “And it’s not me. If it’s anybody, it’s you! I bet you know how cancer-- how cancer spreads and stuff. Huh?”

 

“Well, I may have gotten an A plus in that class,” Sam murmured, looking out the window. “Of course, senior year…I got an A plus in all of my classes.” He looked over at Dean, sticking the tip of his tongue out. 

 

Dean shook his head. “You were such a loser. How did we even come from the same gene pool?”

 

Sam shrugged, stretching his arms out above his head. “Oh, I don’t know. Just lucky, I guess.” He pushed himself up a little, leaning over to kiss Dean’s cheek. “Right?”

 

Dean pulled to a stop at the red light, tilting his head to press his lips to Sam’s. “Yeah, right,” he said softly, kissing the tip of Sam’s nose. 

 

* * * *

 

“Alright, and how have you been feeling?” the doctor asked, shining her penlight in Dean’s eyes.

 

Dean blinked furiously once the light was out of his eyes. “Uh, fine. What do my eyes have to do with my balls?” he asked.

 

The doctor smiled, shaking her head. “Always the bold one, Mr Winchester.” She walked over to her desk, sitting down. “Any abdominal problems?”

 

Dean shook his head. “Uh, nope. Um…I mean, I had the flu a little while ago. But that wasn’t too bad and I got over it okay.”

 

“The flu,” she murmured, nodding slowly. “And no problems with the implants?”

 

Dean shook his head again. “No, not really.” He rubbed at his forehead. “Sometimes I think that-- that maybe they’re too big. Which is weird, right? I mean, who the hell turns down big balls?”

 

The doctor smiled, looking over at Dean. “Your doctors did try to get them the correct size, but if you’re still having problems with them by your next appointment, I can schedule you in for another surgery. Or we can take them out completely. Of course, you don’t have to wait until your next appointment to call.”

 

Dean scratched the back of his neck, nodding. “Sure, sounds good. Um, taking them out completely…so I’d have no ba-- testicles at all? That’s not weird?”

 

“It may not be normal,” the doctor agreed, “but I don’t think it’s weird. If it’s what you feel comfortable with, then it’s not weird.”

 

Dean smiled. “Yeah, I’ve been telling my br--” he cleared his throat, “my boyfriend that for years.”

 

“And how is Sam?” the doctor asked, reaching out for her glasses.

 

“Good,” Dean nodded. “He’s-- he’s at his own appointment right now. With his psychologist. Psychiatrist. Uh…with one of those.”

 

“Does he receive medicine from his doctor?” she asked, glancing over at him. 

 

Dean shook his head. “No. He just sort of talks. They talk through everything. Sam went to one when he was younger, started again.”

 

“Probably a psychologist,” the doctor replied quietly, standing back up. “And if you could stand up please,” she smiled, pulling on a couple of latex gloves. “I’d like to see what’s going on down there for myself.”

 

Dean swallowed hard and stood up slowly, looking down as he began to undo his belt. “Can you turn around?” he asked, glancing back up at her.

 

“I’ll just leave you alone for a moment,” she offered, looking her office. “Here,” she said, grabbing a gown, “I’ll be right back.”

 

“Thanks,” Dean said, setting the gown down behind him. He sighed and toed off his boots as he undid his jeans, starting to push them down. He stepped out of the denim and grabbed them, folding them loosely. He swallowed and unbuttoned his shirt, pulling off his t-shirt. He pulled on the gown, pushing down his boxers afterwards. He grabbed them and balled them up, shoving them under his jeans. “Uh, Doctor Rubeiro, you can come in now,” he said, opening the door a little.

 

“Okay, so you know the drill,” Doctor Rubeiro said, pushing the door closed behind her. “And have you had any problems with your prostate?”

 

“What are the symptoms of prostate cancer?” Dean asked, spreading his legs a little.

 

“Need to urinate often,” Doctor Rubeiro began, reaching between Dean’s legs, “burning or pain during urination.” 

 

Dean cleared his throat and nodded, looking away. 

 

“Blood in the urine or semen,” Doctor Rubeiro continued, “painful ejaculation.”

 

“None of those,” Dean replied, shaking his head. “Definitely not. If-- if it hurt when I…” he waved his hand, “trust me, I’d let you know. I ain’t that kind of freaky.”

 

“Do you know what size your implants are now?” Doctor Rubeiro asked, rolling one gently between her fingers.

 

Dean took a deep breath, thinking for a moment. “Uh, a medium B, I think.”

 

“Right,” Doctor Rubeiro nodded, stepping back from Dean. “Well, we could make you a small B, or we could go down to an A.”

 

“Got any on hand?” Dean asked, moving his feet closer together. “Or uh, well,” he laughed softly, “not on hand exactly, but just around. Like, so I can see?”

 

“I don’t,” Doctor Rubeiro replied, “but Doctor Nagor just down the hall probably does. So a medium B…I’ll go and see what he has.”

 

“Thanks,” Dean said, sitting back down. He cleared his throat, fixing his gown. He waited until he knew Doctor Rubeiro was away from the door and he began looking around her office, reading the titles of the boos on her shelf. “Cancer,” he read, “Fifty Essential Things to Do.” He scratched at his arm, continuing on. “Crazy Sexy Cancer Tips,” he muttered, pushing himself up. “I bet this guy didn’t get his balls lopped off.” He pulled the book of the shelf, going to the back cover. “Cancer need a makeover and I was just the gal to do it,” he read flatly, before snorting. “Yeah, right.” He sighed and opened the book to a random page. “Happy Valentine’s Day! You have cancer,” he continued, shaking his head. “Great.”

 

Dean put the book back and swallowed hard, running his fingers over the spines of her other books. He cleared his throat gently. “I Never Called It Rape: The Ms. Report on Recognizing, Fighting, and Surviving Date and Acquaintance Rape.” He moved to slide it off the shelf before the door opened back up and he dropped his hand, jumping a little. 

 

“See anything interesting?” Doctor Rubeiro asked. 

 

Dean shook his head quickly, sitting back down. “Lots of books on cancer.”

 

Doctor Rubeiro smiled. “I am an oncologist, Dean.”

 

“What’s with the books on rape?” Dean asked, trying to sound as casual as possible. “I mean…”

 

“Just something to put on the shelf,” Doctor Rubeiro said, pulling off her gloves. “My husband’s a psychologist. He buys me books.”

 

“So he gives you books about rape?” Dean asked. “That’s a little morbid.”

 

“So are tumors,” she pointed out, walking back over to Dean, holding an oval-shaped implant in her hand. “This is what you have now,” she said, handing it to Dean. “A medium B. This is a small B,” she said, grabbing another implant. “What do you think?”

 

Dean squeezed the small B in his hand, studying it. “You grabbed an A, right?” he asked.

 

Doctor Rubeiro nodded and walked back over to her desk. “Of course, Dean. Anything for you.” 

 

Dean grinned and glanced back over at the bookshelf, nodding jerkily. “So…is it a good book?” he asked, reaching out for the large A.

 

“Which one?” Doctor Rubeiro asked, looking over to the shelf.

 

“The rape one,” Dean replied quietly, trying to compare the large A to the medium B. 

 

Doctor Rubeiro raised an eyebrow, pushing her glasses up. “Is there something that you need to talk about, Dean?” she asked.

 

“What?” Dean asked, eyes wide. “Me? Oh, no. No. I just…need new reading material, is all. Interesting?”

 

“Have you been touched by sexual assault?” she asked, leaning against her desk. “If you have, you should really be tested for--”

 

Dean shook his head quickly. “No, no. I haven’t been raped or assaulted or…anything. I--” he thought quickly, “knew somebody who was. It was awhile ago, but I just thought maybe I could loan it to them or something. In case they needed it.”

 

Doctor Rubeiro nodded slowly, glancing down at her desk. “Sam’s in therapy now, you said?” she asked.

 

Dean dropped his eyes, nodding weakly. “Sure is,” he said quietly.

 

Doctor Rubeiro nodded again, reaching over to grab the book off the shelf. “Just bring it back with your next appointment,” she said, trying to smile as she held it out to him. “Has he been tested for anything?”

 

“He’s fine,” Dean said, voice rough. He took the book, setting it down beside him. “He’s fine. You can’t tell anybody, right? Doctor/patient privilege?”

 

“It’s obvious he’s getting help,” Doctor Rubeiro said, “and although Sam isn’t my patient, I won’t betray your confidence.”

 

Dean smiled weakly up at her. “Thank you.” He cleared his throat and straightened up. “I think I’m liking the large A. It’s bigger than the small B, huh?” He squeezed each one a couple more times. “I don’t have to make up my mind about this yet, right?”

 

“Never,” Doctor Rubeiro assured him. “Anytime you want, just make an appointment. As for today, I think that we’re done. We’ll get your test results back in a few days.”

 

“Do I seem okay?” Dean asked, picking up his clothes, setting them on his lap. “I mean, do you think it’s going to come back?”

 

Doctor Rubeiro shook her head, walking back over to her desk, sitting down. “I think you’re going to be just fine, Dean. Just be good.”

 

Dean grinned and stood up. “Well, I can’t make you any promises, but I think that Sam keeps me sane.”

 

* * * *

 

Sam cracked his neck a couple of times, fingers drumming on the armrest of his chair. “I think he’s doing fine,” he replied, rubbing his eyes hard. “I don’t know.”

 

“You don’t talk to him?” Doctor Leadon asked, raising an eyebrow. 

 

Sam shrugged. “We sort of have different lives now, you know?”

 

“And what’s Dean think about all of this?” Doctor Leadon asked, shifting in his seat. “Does he speak with Dylan a lot?”

 

Sam shook his head. “No. Not really. I mean, he talks to him, but no more than me, I guess.” He sighed. “I don’t know. I always wanted Dylan to stay close. Now he’s on the other side of the country.”

 

“So what about yours and Dean’s relationship?” Doctor Leadon asked, making a note on his pad of paper. “Have you and Dean been intimate since Dylan left?”

 

Sam smiled to himself, nodding slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, of course. I don’t know what that has to do with anything though.”

 

“Just wondering,” Doctor Leadon murmured, smiling over at Sam. “So how often do you talk to Dylan?”

 

Sam thought quickly. “Every couple of days, if not every day. I’ve started letting him call, try and give him a bit more space. But-- but he’s making friends and…dating. He’s dating. I couldn’t believe it when he called and told us that.” He smiled to himself, nodding. 

 

Doctor Leadon smiled, writing something down. “What’s the house like without him around? Miss the sound of children’s footsteps?” he asked, smiling.

 

Sam laughed softly, shaking his head. “No, we’ve got a dog,” he replied, only half-joking. “I mean our relationship is fine, we just don’t have much of one. It’s harder than I expected it to be. I knew it would suck, but this is worse than I imagined.”

 

Doctor Leadon glanced down at his watch, nodding to himself. “But what about Dylan, how is he doing exactly?”

 

“Good,” Sam said proudly, “good. Great. He’s-- he’s really gotten into being a university student and he’s okay with not being home.”

 

“How long after he left did this feeling start?” Doctor Leadon asked. “The second he was out of your sight?”

 

Sam laughed softly, shaking his head. “I don’t know when it was. It happened though. Somedays it’s worse than others.” He sighed and brought one of his feet up onto the chair with him. “You gonna counsel me through this?”

 

“I don’t think you need counseling,” Doctor Leadon said. “I think that this is something you need to talk to Dylan and Dean about. What about Dean? Where’s he right now?”

 

“At his own appointment,” Sam replied. “With the oncologist. He’s picking me up, I think. But Dean was never as nervous about Dylan leaving as I was, never felt the way I did.”

 

“So Dean’s never mentioned that he feels the same way you do,” Leadon said, looking up at Sam. “Are you sure?”

 

Sam began picking at his jeans, nodding absent-mindedly. “I mean…I’m sure he wishes that he could talk to Dylan more, or that Dylan would call more, but it’s just not something he brings up at the dinner table. I-- don’t you get tired of listening to me talk about Dylan?”

 

“Well, what else do you want to talk about?” Doctor Leadon asked. “Dylan, Dean…”

 

Sam dropped his eyes. “That shouldn’t be the only things I have to talk about.”

 

“I know that, Sam,” Doctor Leadon agreed, “I’ve been telling you that you need to open up more. Your job, Stanford, Sebastien. Anything you want.”

 

Sam looked back up at Doctor Leadon, swallowing. “I don’t need to talk about Sebastien. That was years ago. That’s not-- that’s not a factor in anything. And Stanford was even longer ago. You couldn’t offer me a newer topic?”

 

“I think that we’ve exhausted all of today’s topics,” Doctor Leadon said, standing up slowly, “your time is almost up.”

 

Sam swallowed and pushed himself up, reaching over to shake Leadon’s hand. “Maybe I should…not make another appointment. I’m probably your least favourite patient.”

 

“Do you like coming here, Sam?” Doctor Leadon asked, walking with Sam over to the door.

 

Sam nodded, smiling weakly. “Yeah, I do.”

 

“Then you’re one of my favourites,” he assured Sam, opening the door for him. “You don’t have to make another appointment now. How about you talk to Dylan and Dean, get everything out, and then come back at least one more time to let me know how it went?”

 

Sam looked over at Dean, who was waiting in the lobby and nodded eagerly. “Okay. Sounds good. I’ll talk to you later then.” He smiled and walked over to Dean, reaching out for his hand. “How’d your appointment go?” he asked.

 

“Good,” Dean nodded, eyeing the doctor. “Yours?” he asked.

 

“Okay,” Sam said, looking down at the book in Dean’s hand. “What ya got there?” he asked, reaching out for it.

 

Dean swallowed hard and shook his head. “Not here, ‘kay?” he said, giving Doctor Leadon a quick smile. “Not the right place.”

 

“O…kay,” Sam said slowly, following Dean out. “Is it from your doctor? About cancer?” he asked, linking fingers with Dean.

 

Dean glanced back at him and shook his head, waiting until they were out of the building, before stopping and handing the book to him. “Yeah, it’s from my doctor.”

 

Sam reached out, taking the book from him. “I Never Called It Rape: The Ms. Report on Recognizing, Fighting, and Surviving Date and Acquaintance Rape,” he read, voice getting quieter as he went on. “What the hell’s this?”

 

“It was on her shelf,” Dean began, “and she said I could take it. For us.”

 

“You told her?” Sam asked accusingly, looking at Dean. “You told your oncologist that you raped me?”

 

“No!” Dean exclaimed. “Jesus, what the hell do you think I am? I…I think she figured out what-- that you were-- but I didn’t tell her about the possession.”

 

“I’m not reading this,” Sam said, shaking his head, shoving the book back into Dean’s hands. “I’m over it, Dean. You should be too.” He brushed past Dean, walking over to their car.

 

“Maybe I’ll read it,” Dean suggested, following after Sam. “I survived it too.” He unlocked the car door, climbing in, reaching over to unlock Sam’s door. 

 

“Great,” Sam muttered, pulling the door closed behind him. “I know.” He let out a deep breath. “We talked about you a bit today,” he said finally, looking over at Dean. 

 

“What about me?” Dean asked, glancing in his rear view mirror. “Wait, did you tell your doctor?”

 

Sam shook his head. “I don’t think I’m gonna go back. Once more, maybe. I always talk about you and Dylan. There’s not really a point anymore.”

 

Dean sighed, reaching down to rub his stomach. “I’m thinking of changing my implants,” he said, looking over at Sam.

 

Sam sighed and shook his head, looking out the window. “Bigger, right? They finally get brass in?”

 

“Smaller, actually,” Dean replied quietly, fingers flexing around the steering wheel. “I’m not sure yet though.”

 

“How much smaller?” Sam asked.

 

Dean shook his head. “Not much. I’m thinking a large A. Bigger than a small B.” 

 

Sam nodded slowly, crossing his arms. “Yeah okay, I assume that you know what those mean, right?”

 

Dean nodded, glancing over at Sam. “Yeah, I do. I got to hold them, see the difference. Anyway, just thinking out loud, letting you know.” He looked down at the book on his lap, before quickly looking back to Sam. “Anyway, yeah. She thinks I’m fine. No cancer.”

 

Sam smiled faintly, reaching out to squeeze Dean’s leg gently. “I’m really happy. That’s…I plan on having you around for awhile.”

 

Dean smiled, shifting in his seat. He reached down, clasping onto Sam’s hand on his leg. “Yeah, that’s pretty much awesome.”

 

Sam snorted and rolled his eyes, grinning as he shook his head. “God, Dean. Way to ruin a mood.”

 

“Well, I was unaware that there was a mood,” Dean said, squeezing Sam’s hand. “You in the mood?” he asked, giving him a wink. “‘Cause baby, I’ll park this car anywhere for you.”

 

Sam chuckled and brought his knees up, shifting in his seat. “Gee, how romantic.” He smiled and grasped onto Dean’s hand, leaning his head against the window. “But sometime, Dean. Not today, ‘kay?”

 

Dean smiled and nodded, tongue wetting his lips. “So what’d ya talk about other than me? Dylan?”

 

Sam nodded. “Yeah. How much I hate the fact that he’s on the other side of the country. Lame stuff.”

 

“So that’s why you don’t wanna go back,” Dean said, “because all you talk about is your family?”

 

“He asked me to talk about other stuff today,” Sam admitted. “My job, Stanford…” he cleared his throat, looking away from Dean. “I wish there really was somebody I could just open up to, talk to them about everything.”

 

“Well, that’s me, isn’t it?” Dean asked, looking over at him. “You can talk to me.”

 

Sam smiled over at Dean, squeezing his hand reassuringly. “Yeah, I know. But somethings you were there for, is all. I know I can talk to you.”

 

Dean swallowed, thinking. “If you want…I mean, if you really do, I think I might okay with you telling him about the rape.”

 

Sam shook his head. “No, Dean, no. If I tell him, then doesn’t he have to like, tell the police? And then what, you go to prison for doing something that you had no control over? Dean, I-- I’m fine. I really am. I know it wasn’t you.”

 

“That doesn’t change the fact that it happened,” Dean pointed out. “That-- that this thing came into our lives and did that to you, while I watched. It was my body. I have…” He shook his head and slipped his hand out of Sam’s, bringing it back up to the steering wheel. “If you don’t wanna talk about it, it’s fine. Whatever, it’s okay.”

 

“Okay,” Sam agreed quietly, reaching over to pick up the book. He sighed and cracked it open, going to the first page. “Eighty-four percent of those raped knew their attacker,” he read, shifting in his seat. “Only twenty-seven percent of women raped identified themselves as rape victims. One in every twelve men admits to committing acts that meet legal definitions of rape.”

 

“You think that’s written by one of those feminists who thinks that all sex is rape or something?” Dean asked, pulling to a stop at the red light. “You wanna go out for lunch, or what?”

 

Sam nodded, closing the book. “Yeah, sounds good to me. I could go for some Chicken McNuggets.”

 

* * * *

 

“Somebody stop that dog from whining,” Dean muttered, pushing himself up on the couch. “Sammy, make him stop.”

 

“Dean, go walk him then,” Sam suggested, looking up at him. “Seriously. He is yours.”

 

“Yeah, but you bought him,” Dean pointed out, dropping back down on his ass. “I never asked for him.”

 

“Dean, he’s our dog,” Sam said, “go walk him. Walk him, bring him home, he’ll go to sleep.”

 

“But it’s getting dark,” Dean whined, closing his eyes. 

 

Sam frowned and looked out the living room window, the sky still blue. “Yeah, I suggest opening your eyes.”

 

Dean shifted on the couch and dropped down on Sam’s lap, looking up at him, eyes fluttering. “Come with me?” he asked hopefully. “For a walk around the neighborhood?”

 

Sam smiled and leaned down, giving Dean a kiss. “Yeah, I suppose.” He kissed Dean again, setting down his newspaper. “Chuck!” he called, clapping his hands a couple of times.

 

“I’ll get him!” Dean said enthusiastically, rolling off the couch, dropping onto the floor before pushing himself up, hurrying towards Dylan’s room. 

 

Sam laughed and stood up slowly, cracking his back as he went. He cracked his neck a couple of times and began making his way into the kitchen, rubbing at his stomach as he grabbed King Chuck’s leash off the hook by the keys. “Dean!” he called, clapping his hands, grinning to himself.

 

Dean growled at Chuck, practically squealing when the dog tackled him and began rolling around on the floor. “Oh, Rucky, I wove you,” he baby-talked, rubbing King Chuck’s belly. “Who wants to go for a walk? Who wants to go for a walk?” He leaned down, letting the dog lick his face. “I think you do! I think you do!” He stood up and clapped his hands, Chuck following after him, barking once.

 

“Well, you’ve seemed to perk up in the past few seconds,” Sam pointed out, crouching down, reaching out for Chuck, hooking the leash onto his collar. He laughed as Chuck licked his face this time, rubbing his head. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, reaching down for his beat up sneakers. “What’s going on, Chuck?” he asked, pulling his sneakers on. “What’s going on? Any other day, we wouldn’t be home yet.” He picked up Chuck’s leash, leading him towards the door. “This must be a treat for you, huh?”

 

Dean grabbed his jacket and slipped it on, following Sam out the door, pulling it closed behind him. “Did Dylan call when I was in the shower?” he asked, glancing up at Sam. 

 

Sam shook his head, glancing down at his watch. “Uh no, I think he’s…I don’t know what he’s doing. Maybe he’ll call before bed.”

 

Dean moved in closer to Sam, sniffing his neck. “You smell good? Is that my body wash?”

 

Sam nodded, stopping a moment to let King Chuck sniff at something on the sidewalk. “Yeah, it is. Mine was out.”

 

Dean sniffed again, pushing at the small curls at the nape of Sam’s neck, nipping at his skin. “Oh, yeah? Well, we’ll have to get some more then, won’t we?”

 

“I put it on the grocery list,” Sam assured him, tightening his grip a little on the leash. 

 

“What’s today?” Dean asked, looking up at Sam.

 

“The…sixteenth,” Sam replied, thinking. “Yeah. Wednesday.”

 

“Have we talked to Dylan since his birthday?” Dean asked. “We haven’t, have we?”

 

Sam thought again, before shaking his head. “No, we haven’t. Huh. We did talk to him on Saturday, right? Or was it Friday?”

 

“No, we wished him happy birthday,” Dean replied. “He went out Saturday night. Remember? He was complaining, ‘cause he had a test on Monday?”

 

“And you expect me to believe that all of this doesn’t bother you,” Sam said in disbelief. “We never see him--”

 

“Well, duh,” Dean interrupted, “he lives in New York.”

 

“And we never talk to him,” Sam finished, shaking his head. “I don’t care what the hell that kid wants, he’s coming home once the year’s over.”

 

“For good?” Dean asked in surprise. 

 

“For summer,” Sam said. “And if…somewhere along the way he gets persuaded into transferring to a much closer university, well, that’s not my problem, is it?”

 

Dean looked up at Sam, shaking his head, even though he was smiling faintly. “Wow, you’re uh, you’re not gonna give this thing up, are you?”

 

“Well, it happened with Danny, didn’t it?” Sam pointed out. “He decided that he didn’t wanna go back his first summer off.”

 

“Except that he did go back,” Dean pointed out, “in like, February. Or whenever people can go back.”

 

Sam shrugged, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Whatever. Anyway, I just want him home.”

 

“What about his girlfriend?” Dean asked. “Where’s she from again?”

 

“New Hampshire,” Sam replied. “Uh…Manchester, I think. Live free or die.”

 

“They do have the best state motto, don’t they?” Dean mused, trying to think of all of them. “One of the few actually in English. Plus…a bitchin’ Bruce Willis movie. What’s Cali’s again?”

 

“Eureka,” Sam replied.

 

Dean snorted. “Okay, no wonder I forgot it. Lame.”

 

Sam began running through the mottoes in his head, thinking hard. “Kansas is ad astra per aspera. To the stars through adversity. New York is, uh…New York is…excelsior.”

 

“Good lord,” Dean muttered, shaking his head. “Damn shame. What the hell; eureka and excelsior? Could they be any more gay?”

 

Sam cocked his head slightly to the side. “Wyoming’s is equal rights.”

 

Dean’s jaw dropped and he made an ugly face. “Okay, I stand corrected. They could be more gay.” He shook his head, looking back at something that Chuck had been smelling. “What the hell is that?” he asked, before Sam laughed and reached out, grabbing onto his jacket, pulling him along.

 

* * * *

 

Dylan squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed at his temples, pain flaring behind his eyes.

 

“Are you okay?” Paul asked flatly from his bed, flicking through the channels on their small television.

 

Dylan nodded and waved his hand. “Yeah, just a-- just a migraine.” He groaned and flopped back onto his mattress, shifting to look at the television. “Are you--” he cocked his head to the side a little, “are you watching porn?”

 

Paul shrugged. “Well, it was on.”

 

“Yeah, but I’m…right here,” Dylan pointed out. “You’re watching porn right beside me.”

 

Paul lolled his head over, looking at Dylan. “I watch it for the plot. Like in this one, I’ve seen it before, she thought that that guy was blind, but he wasn’t. She was naked in front of him. I mean, more clothes and it’s like an episode of-- of some show. That show, you know. With the New Yorkers and the main guy’s Jewish?”

 

“You’d have to ask my parents,” Dylan muttered, rolling onto his side. “Just, uh, yeah. Fine. Just do anything.”

 

“I won’t,” Paul assured him, looking back to the television, rubbing at his arms. “Oh yeah, when you were in…one of your classes, Piper called. She didn’t seem impressed.”

 

“With what?” Dylan asked, lifting his head. “I didn’t do anything.”

 

“She was blabbing about Victoria,” Paul said, settling into his chair, setting the remote down. “I don’t know. Call one of them.” He ran his hand over his hair, nodding to the seventies porn groove coming from the television.

 

Dylan rolled his eyes and rolled onto his stomach, shoving his hands under his pillow. “Yeah, I don’t-- maybe tomorrow. I still gotta call my parents.”

 

“Man, I’ll do that for ya,” Paul offered. “They’re good people.”

 

“I just want the school year to be over,” Dylan muttered, shifting on his bed. He toed off his socks, shivering slightly as his feet hit the air. “I think I’m ready to go home.”

 

“Yeah, I hear ya,” Paul agreed, nodding slowly, reaching out blindly for Dylan’s cell phone that was currently on the desk. “Here,” he said, tossing it over to Dylan, hitting him on the ass. “Call somebody boy, just leave the room.”

 

Dylan made a face up at Paul, picking up his phone. “Actually, you know what? I think that I’m going to stay right here. Right here, on my bed. While you watch porn.” He smirked at Paul, throwing one of his socks over at him. “Paul!” he exclaimed.

 

“What?” Paul snapped, looking away from the screen.

 

“Stop watching porn!” Dylan finished. 

 

“There is nothing else on,” Paul said, tossing the remote over to Dylan, watching it bounce on his mattress. “You find something if you’re gonna be so damn picky.”

 

Dylan rolled his eyes, pushing himself up. “Fine. I will.” He slowly began flicking through the channels, slouching down a little more every time he realized that Paul may have been right. “Fine,” he said flatly, pushing himself up, handing the remote over to Paul. “Watch your porn. I’m gonna go find a cup of coffee.” He picked up his phone and slipped his feet into his sneakers, grabbing his jacket before opening the door.

 

* * * *

 

Dean moved his mouth down Sam’s arm, wet open-mouth kisses along his scars, fingers digging into Sam’s shoulders. He whined softly and his eyes fluttered, resting his head against Sam’s chest. “God,” he breathed, hips jerking into Sam’s fist.

 

Sam kissed Dean’s temple, running the hand that wasn’t jerking them off together down Dean’s back, pulling him in closer. “Love you,” he said quietly, twisting his fingers around their dicks, toes curling at the sensation of them sliding together. 

 

Dean worked one hand behind Sam’s head, digging into his slightly sweaty hair, pulling him in for a kiss. “Ever tell your therapist you fuck your brother?” he asked softly, pulling back.

 

Sam cried out loudly, head going back. “I don’t--” his breath hitched and he pressed his lips to the top of Dean’s head, “think he’d understand,” he said quickly before Dean dragged his nails over Sam’s nipple, covering it with his mouth. “God!” he cried, holding Dean’s head to his chest. “Jesus,” he said, voice shaky. 

 

Dean smirked as he pulled back and reached between them, covering Sam’s hand with his own, thumbing the head of Sam’s cock. “He might,” he whispered, pushing himself up a little, “if he saw me.” He leaned down, covering Sam’s mouth with his own, slipping his tongue in. 

 

Sam arched off of the bed, moaning loudly into Dean’s mouth as he came, jerking on the bed, toes curling. He cried out when they broke apart and felt Dean shudder against him, more wetness spilling onto his stomach. 

 

Dean panted heavily, gingerly letting go of him and Sam, settling down onto Sam’s chest, snuggling into him. “God,” he muttered, a chill running up his spine. 

 

“Mm-hmm,” Sam agreed, tongue wetting his lips. He pushed himself up a little and reached down, pulling the sheets up further. He shivered too and moved down further on the mattress, curling up under Dean. “Love you,” he said, looking up at Dean.

 

Dean nodded slowly, eyes drifting closed, almost ready to fall asleep before the air was filled with the shrill sound of Dean’s ring tone. “No,” he grumbled, shaking his head. “Not now.” He put all of his weight on Sam, trying to hold him to the bed.

 

“Dean,” Sam said, reaching out for the nightstand. He kissed the side of Dean’s head as he answered the phone. “Dean Winchester’s phone,” he said, curling back up against Dean.

 

“Hi, Mom,” Dylan said, wrapping his jacket around him tighter. “How are you?”

 

Sam smiled faintly and nodded. “I’m…I’m good. How are you?”

 

“Cold,” Dylan said, looking around the sidewalk. “But then again, I think most people here are right now. What’s going on?”

 

Sam shook his head. “Nothing much, just in bed. How’s your day been?”

 

“Good, I guess,” Dylan nodded, hurrying across the sidewalk. “Got an essay back.”

 

“And?” Sam asked, kissing Dean’s shoulder.

 

“Aced it,” Dylan replied proudly, grinning, “of course. So what’d you two do all day?”

 

Sam yawned softly. “We had doctor’s appointments. Took the day off work.”

 

“Everything okay?” Dylan asked. “Is-- is Dad okay?”

 

“Your dad is fine,” Sam assured him quietly. “Dean, talk to your son, assure him you’re fine.” He handed the phone over to Dean, rolling onto his side.

 

“Well, what the hell are you gonna do?” Dean asked, putting the phone up to his ear. “Hey, kiddo. What’s going on?”

 

“Just getting coffee,” Dylan replied. 

 

“Yeah, I hear that,” Dean said, dropping down beside Sam. “Take big gulps for me.” He yawned and picked at the bed sheets, legs curling up. “How you feel, all eighteen and everything now?”

 

Dylan shrugged. “I don’t know. Old. I guess this is how you all feel, huh?” he teased.

 

“Shut your mouth boy,” Dean said, scratching his head. “So…how are you? How’ve you been?”

 

“Good,” Dylan nodded. “Um, no, good. Paul was watching porn in our dorm, kind of kicked me out a little. Not like I really wanted to be in there all that much anyway.”

 

“He was watching porn while you were still in the room?” Dean asked, smiling when Sam lifted his head, making a face. “Oh yeah, I always knew that I liked that kid.”


	35. Chapter 34

Title: Look What Love Has Done - Volume 3 - Chapter 34

Pairing: Sam/Dean

Disclaimer: Not mine

Rating: PG-13 this chapter

Summary: Dylan's a bit stressed out with school; Sam's a bit stressed out with Dean

Author's Note: Forget volume one, forget volume two; this is volume three 

 

eighteen years, eight months and twenty-seven days old

 

Piper reached out, grabbing onto her glass of lemonade. She quickly smiled at Paul, reaching out to grab the umbrella out of his drink, slipping it into hers. “I hate New York in the winter,” she said, shaking her head. 

 

Dylan nodded slowly, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Yeah, it pretty much blows.” He sighed, glancing over at Paul, who was scanning the same textbook as he was. “What page are you on?” he asked.

 

Paul shrugged, absent-mindedly flipping another page. “I’m not sure anymore. All the words are just kind of,” he waved his hand, “swimming together.”

 

“Oh, Christ,” Dylan muttered, rubbing at his eyes, “I hate this class.”

 

Piper began twirling the umbrella around in her lemonade, flipping the page of her magazine. “Anybody get anything good for Christmas?” she asked.

 

“You’re Jewish, Piper,” Paul said flatly, “and no. All I got was this stupid essay that I have to write and I haven’t finished it yet.” He shook his head and reached out, grabbing onto his drink. “Wanna go get me some potato skins?” he asked, looking over his book to raise an eyebrow at Piper.

 

“Um, no,” Piper smirked, cocking her head to the side. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m Dylan’s fag-hag, not yours.”

 

Dylan sighed loudly and looked over at Piper in disbelief. “I’m not a-- and you’re not that. I have a girlfriend.”

 

Piper rolled her eyes, before breaking out in a grin, looking at someone over Dylan’s shoulder. She waved and reached out with a long leg, nudging at Dylan’s leg. 

 

Dylan glanced back and smiled faintly, shifting on the bench closer to Paul. “Hi,” he said quietly, looking up at her.

 

Victoria gave him a small smile and dropped bag off her shoulder, sitting down beside Dylan. She turned and let him give her a quick kiss, before reaching down, grabbing a notebook out of her bag. “How are you?” she asked, pushing her braid off of her shoulder, glancing over at Dylan. 

 

Dylan smiled and gave her another kiss. “Fine. I guess. Working. Studying.”

 

“What class now?” Victoria asked, bringing her legs up onto the bench, pushing herself up. She smiled and set her chin on Dylan’s shoulder, reading his book. “Ah, econometrics.” She looked over at Piper’s book. “And what class is Cosmo for, Pipe?”

 

Piper smiled over at Victoria, shrugging. “Anatomy,” she replied before beginning to giggle.

 

Victoria smiled and rolled her eyes, dropping back down on her seat. “Of course.” She grabbed a pen and opened her notebook, tapping the page a couple of times. 

 

“What are you working on?” Dylan asked, turning towards her. 

 

“Article for the Spectator,” Victoria replied, running her fingers over her hair. “Aimee wants me to write about the students going on a hunger strike in the quad.”

 

“Dude, are those kids serious?” Paul asked, looking up. “I know one of those guys, trust me, he’s not going to make it.”

 

Piper laughed loudly, flipping her hair out of her face. “C’mon Vicki, just go…sit with them, interview them. How hard could it be? And long as it even been?”

 

“Two days,” Victoria replied. “There’s hardly even a story here.” She dropped her pen and shook her head.

 

Piper cleared her throat gently and reached her leg out again, gently kicking Dylan under the table.

 

Dylan nodded once and wrapped his arm around Victoria’s shoulders, kissing her cheek. “If anybody can find one, it’d be you.”

 

Victoria lifted her head and gave Dylan a kiss, smiling at him. “Maybe I should…go to the library, or something.” She closed her notebook, slipping her pen behind her ear. 

 

“But you just got here,” Dylan pointed out, “can’t you stay? For a little while? For a drink, at least? How’s the lemonade here, Pipe?” he asked.

 

Piper finished off her drink with a large gulp and sighed, setting down her glass. “Well if you’re going to get her one, get me a refill, huh?”

 

Victoria thought for a moment and sighed, before nodding. “Yeah. Okay. I have time. Intro to Romanian doesn’t start for--” she glanced down at her watch, “fifty-six minutes.”

 

“See?” Dylan smiled. “Plenty of time.” He swatted Paul lightly on the back of his head, standing up. “Are you coming?” he asked.

 

Paul shook his head, pushing his glasses up for a moment. “No, no, I’m good. You wanna get me a Pepsi?”

 

Dylan rolled his eyes, patting his pockets for his wallet. “Yeah yeah, I’ll get you your damn Pepsi.”

 

Victoria reached out, quickly grasping onto Dylan’s hand, smiling up at him. “Thank you.”

 

Dylan nodded and smiled back at her, walking towards the counter.

 

Piper lifted her purse onto the table, going through it. She pulled out her lip gloss and her headband, setting them down on the table. She grinned over at Victoria, pushing her headband on. “Intro to Romanian?” she repeated, shaking her head slowly. “What the hell, Vic? When are we going to go to Romanian?”

 

“Romania,” Victoria corrected, stretching her arms above her head. “I’ll just assume that you knew that. And it’s interesting, Piper. You’re taking a language. So is Paul and Dylan.”

 

“I’m taking Polish,” Piper replied, “Paul’s taking…” she waved her hand, looking over at Paul.

 

“Swahili,” Paul replied, not even looking up.

 

“Oh,” Victoria said, reaching out for Piper’s lip gloss, “is that where your family is from?” she asked.

 

Paul slowly looked up from his book, looking at Victoria in disbelief. “I’m from Hartford,” he replied.

 

“Victoria, you can’t just ask people that,” Piper said, trying not to laugh. “Jesus, girl.” She shook her head, reaching out for Paul’s hand. “Ignore her, Vic’s parents somehow managed not to teach the finer points of conversation.”

 

“What?” Victoria asked. “Why can’t I ask that?”

 

“Because it’s racist,” Piper said, leaning across the table.

 

“But he’s black,” Victoria pointed out, leaning over to Piper.

 

Paul sighed loudly and set his book down. “My father was born in Brooklyn. My mother is from Vermont. She’s white. My grandparents are from Texas, Idaho and New York. But I suppose that if you go back far, far enough…my family is from Jamaica. And France.”

 

Victoria swallowed hard, reaching up to run her fingers through the end of her braid. “I…didn’t mean to offend you. But-- I just figured--”

 

“Dylan takes Czech,” Paul interrupted. “He’s not Czech.”

 

Victoria sighed, nodding slowly. “Well, I apologize. I’m sure that I was very offensive and racist and I am sorry.”

 

Paul pinched the bridge of his nose, groaning softly as he dropped his head onto his book. “I need to write this paper and--” he glanced down at his watch, “I’ve got fencing practice in freaking ten minutes.” He grabbed his backpack and stood up quickly, almost running into Dylan.

 

“Tell me you’re at least going to take the Pepsi,” Dylan said, holding it out for him.

 

Paul nodded and took the Pepsi, patting Dylan on the shoulder before hurrying off. “See ya later!” he called behind him, pulling open the door. 

 

“He’s going to freeze to death,” Piper said, reaching out to take her lemonade. “Thanks, Dyl,” she smiled, taking a quick drink.

 

“And for you,” Dylan said, setting the glass down in front of Victoria, sitting back down. He smiled and kissed her temple, going back to his textbook. 

 

“Have you started the paper yet?” Victoria asked, using the end of her pen to poke at the ice cubes floating in her drink.

 

Dylan nodded, blowing steam off of his hot chocolate. “Yeah, got…a third done.” He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, groaning softly.

 

“Is it due tomorrow?” Victoria asked, glancing over at Dylan. 

 

“I’m tired,” Dylan murmured, staring at his book before finally just closing it. “I’m gonna go back to my dorm, try and get some sleep before my next class.” He stood up slowly, grabbing onto his bag. “Have fun, you two.” He leaned down, giving Victoria a kiss. “I’ll talk to you later, ‘kay?”

 

“Bye,” Victoria said, waving gently. She sighed and turned back to her drink, taking a sip.

 

Piper smiled over at Victoria, sticking her tongue out. “What a cute kid.”

 

* * * *

 

“Dean, come in,” Sam said, shivering as he reached his arm out the door. “Why does the car have to be cleaned now?”

 

Dean zipped his jacket up a little further, grinning over at Sam. “Oh, Sammy. It’s not that cold out here to begin with. And the car is dirty.”

 

Sam groaned softly and dropped against the doorframe, crossing his arms tightly. “Dean, please? Clean it later…in August, when it’s warm again.”

 

Dean laughed, dropping the sponge, shaking his hand, trying to get some feeling back into it. “Or, and this is just a suggestion here, you could come out and play. Keep me warm.”

 

Sam sighed and disappeared back into the house, closing the door behind.

 

Dean reached back down and grabbed the sponge, starting on the top of the car, working it in circles before he head the door open and he looked over, laughing loudly. “Jesus, Sam, it’s like fifty degrees out here!”

 

“I don’t care,” Sam grumbled, pulling his hat down further, tugging on his gloves. “You should be wearing something on your hands too, Dean. That water’s cold.” He reached down and grasped onto Dean’s hand, bringing it up to his mouth.

 

Dean swallowed hard as Sam’s mouth wrapped around a couple of his digits, tongue curling. “O-- okay, I think you’re right. It is kind of cold out here.”

 

Sam nodded slowly, licking his lips as Dean’s fingers slipped out of his mouth. “So…are you going to come in now, or what?” he asked.

 

Dean sighed and glanced at the car, before shaking his head slowly. “Well, now that I’ve started, I’ve gotta make sure that I don’t leave any soap stains on here. Sorry, Sammy.”

 

Sam groaned and dropped against the car, shaking his head. “Dean, you’ve got to be kidding me right now. It’s cold, it’s just a car and I’m horny!” He pouted over at Dean, batting his eyes. “Ugh, whatever,” he muttered, smacking the car before turning around, heading right back inside.

 

“Soap stains are a very serious business,” Dean muttered, beginning to rinse off the car.

 

Sam pulled off his hat and dropped it down onto the counter, along with his gloves. “Stupid soap stains,” he muttered, , unzipping his jacket, shrugging it off. He picked everything up and walked off to the master bedroom, dropping it all down onto their bed. 

 

Dean hummed to himself, rinsing off the windshield, reaching over the car. He dipped the sponge into the bucket again, rinsing off the hood. He stepped back nodded once, dropping the sponge into the bucket. He reached down and grabbed a rag, attempting to polish the car.

 

Sam ruffled his hair a couple of times, folding his gloves, setting them in his hat, which he threw over into the closet. He pulled at the ends of his jacket sleeves before straightening up, walking over to the bathroom. He pushed open the door and flicked on the lights, reaching into the tub to turn on the shower. He pulled the curtain closed and grabbed a couple of towels, setting them down before undoing his jeans, pushing them down. 

 

Dean shoved the end of the rag into his pocket and picked up his bucket, grabbing the sponge out before throwing the water onto the grass beside the porch. He walked up to the house, dropping down the bucket, sponge and rag in the porch before opening the door to the kitchen, stepping inside. 

 

Sam turned on a some cold and peeled off his black sweater, dropping it down by his jeans. He scratched absent-mindedly at his chest, before testing the water, turning on a bit more cold. He waited a few more seconds before pushing the curtain back enough to step into the tub, sighing as soon as he was covered in the heat.

 

Dean looked up when he heard the shower and smiled, kicking off his shoes. He unwrapped his scarf from his neck and dropped it down onto the counter, wiggling his chilled fingers to try and warm them. 

 

Sam tilted his head back, letting out a quiet groan. He reached down and grabbed his body wash, pouring some into his hand. He began rubbing it onto his skin, trying to work out the small kinks he had in his shoulders.

 

Dean slowly opened the door to bathroom, waving his hand in front of his face a couple of times, steam steadily rushing out from the shower. “Oh, Sammy?” he called playfully. “You decent?”

 

Sam flipped his wet hair away from his eyes, glancing over towards the curtain. “Decided to come in, did you?” he asked, pulling the curtain back slightly. “Offer’s gone; I’m not in the mood anymore.”

 

Dean pouted and leaned against the wall, watching Sam wash himself. “You’re such a party pooper.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes, looking over at Dean. “Right, mister soap stains. I’m showering now.” He reached out, pulling on the shower curtain. “And now that I’ve started, I can’t really stop.”

 

Dean sighed and shook his head, reaching down to grab onto Sam’s clothes and his towels, carrying them into the bedroom, throwing them onto the floor. “That isn’t what I said anyway,” he muttered, shoving Sam’s boxers under the mattress. “What a little drama queen,” he said, before he grinned with an idea. He grabbed Sam’s boxers back and dropped them onto the floor, outside the bathroom door. 

 

Sam pulled back the curtain and glanced back into the bathroom, shaking his head. He groaned and dropped his head against the wet tile, letting out a deep breath. “Haha, so funny, Dean.”

 

Dean dropped Sam’s sweater at the bedroom door and balled up Sam’s jeans, walking into the living room. He dropped them on the floor then went back into the master bedroom for more clothes. Grabbing more of Sam’s clothes, he also began looking around for a pen and paper.

 

Sam moved under the spray, rinsing off the body wash. He reached back for his shampoo, popping the cap. He began washing his hair, running his fingers through his hair. He looked up when he heard the bathroom door open again, and he pulled the curtain back in time just to see Dean drop a piece of paper on the counter, quickly scurrying out. “Dean!” he called. “What are you--” he groaned and shook his head, washing out his hair. He quickly grabbed some conditioner, working it into his hair, standing under the water.

 

Dean walked backwards, dropping pieces of Sam’s clothing as he went, moving down the hall to Dylan’s practically empty bedroom. He threw a pair of Sam’s boxers onto the middle of the bare mattress and climbed on top, lying down. 

 

Sam turned off the water and pushed back the curtain, climbing out of the tub. He rolled his eyes when he realized Dean had taken his towels too and just walked over to the dryer, pulling out a warm towel. He smiled as he wrapped it around himself, leaning down to read the paper. “Come and find me,” he said flatly, before shaking his head and walking into the bedroom. “Dean!” he yelled as he tripped over his boxers, stumbling to the floor. 

 

Dean threw his head back and laughed, crossing his arms. “Sammy,” he said softly, shaking his head. “God, you’re awesome.”

 

* * * *

 

Dylan rolled right off his mattress, groaning as he hit the floor. He quickly sat up and looked over at Paul, who was steadily typing on his laptop. “You couldn’t wake me up?” he demanded, glancing over at their clock before pushing himself up. “Paul.”

 

“Sorry,” Paul said, glancing over his shoulder to try and smile apologetically at Dylan. “Paper.”

 

“Christ, when did you get back?” Dylan asked, glancing down at his watch to make sure the clock was right. “Your practice got canceled?” he asked hopefully.

 

Paul frowned and shook his head. “Uh, no. You’re just really late for class.”

 

Dylan rolled his eyes and reached out, grabbing onto his backpack, glancing inside to see if he had the correct textbooks. “Have you seen my Architectural Daylighting book?” he asked, glancing down at his mattress.

 

Paul cracked his shoulders and slowly looked around the room, spinning in his chair. “Uh…” he kept looking, “nope. Sorry.”

 

“Shit,” Dylan muttered, walking over to his desk. He lifted up a couple of his books, letting out a deep breath. “Shit,” he said again, pulling on his jacket. “Okay, if anybody calls, just--”

 

“Don’t forget your phone,” Paul interrupted, grinning over at Dylan. “Wouldn’t wanna miss a call from your parents or Victoria.”

 

“They’re not the only people who call me,” Dylan interrupted, making a face at Paul. “And fine, I’ve got my phone.” He looked around the room one last time for his book before hurrying out the door, almost running into a couple walking by the door. “Sorry,” he apologized quickly, before finally slowing down as he made his way down the hall, pushing open the door to the stairs. He walked out into the lobby and swallowed hard and took a deep breath, pulling open the door into freezing cold. He could feel his cheeks instantly tightening and he shivered, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

 

“You’re late!” Victoria called, hurrying over to Dylan.

 

“What?” Dylan asked, glancing back, stopping when he realized who it was. “Vic, what are you doing out in the cold?”

 

Victoria shrugged and adjusted her earmuffs. “I was on my way back to my room, but uh…you slept too long?” she asked, starting off alongside Dylan. 

 

Dylan nodded, curling his toes in his sneakers, trying to warm them up. “I’d love to stay and talk about it, but I’ve got to make it before I miss the whole thing. Sorry.”

 

Victoria nodded understandingly and leaned out, kissing Dylan quickly, fixing her gloves. “I’ll call you later. We should do something tonight.”

 

“Can’t,” Dylan replied, “paper. But definitely something this weekend, okay?” He kissed Victoria again, giving her a wave. “If Pipe’s not around, Paul’s still up in the room. You can hang out with him.” He smiled, jogging lightly away from her. “Bye!” he called behind him. 

 

Victoria smiled and shook her head, reaching into her bag to fish out her earphones. She moved her earmuffs just enough out of the way to slip the buds in, turning on her music. She began humming to herself as she made her way across the snow covered grass. 

 

Dylan hurried up the steps of the building, pulling open the heavy doors. He slipped on the wet floor as he ran in, making his way down the hall to the room. He made it to the door just in time for it to be pushed open and he groaned loudly as the students began filing out, slumping against the wall. “Great,” he muttered, rubbing at his eyes.

 

A couple of the students laughed softly when they saw him leaning against the wall and Dylan just straightened up, shaking his head. “Fell asleep,” he explained, waiting for the rest of the students to hurry up and make their way out. He walked in once almost everyone was out, walking over to his professor. “Uh, hello…Professor Cooke.”

 

“Mr Winchester,” Professor Cooke said, looking up from his computer. “Class just got out.”

 

Dylan nodded. “I know. I uh, I really meant to come but I was going this paper for econometrics and I uh, fell asleep and…you’re one of the professors that say I can miss their class, right?” he asked hopefully.

 

“Get the notes from somebody else,” Professor Cooke nodded, “and I’ll see you on Monday. I assigned a small project for the weekend.”

 

Dylan groaned softly and his head dropped forward. “Due Monday?” he asked.

 

“Daylight and health, energy and productivity, Mr Winchester,” Professor Cooke replied. “Which, of course, is--”

 

“What we covered today,” Dylan finished, nodding slowly. “Okay, thank you, Professor Cooke. I’ll be seeing you on Monday then.” He sighed and slowly walked out of the room, grabbing his phone out of his pocket, slowly going through his address book, looking for the number of someone he thought could help.

 

Dean sighed and rolled around on the mattress, wondering when Sam was going to get his ass off the couch and follow the trail of clothes down to him.

 

Sam scratched at his leg, fixing his sweatpants. He stretched his arms out above his head and changed the channel, going back to the movie. He looked over to his phone when it rang and reached down, turning it on. “Sam,” he said, turning down the volume.

 

“Hi, Mom,” Dylan said softly, leaning against the wall. “Are you busy?”

 

“No,” Sam replied, “and I always have time for you anyway. What’s going on?”

 

Dylan shook his head and slid down the wall, bringing his knees up to his chest. “I’m just really tired,” he said quietly, wiping at his eyes. “I have a paper and-- and a project due on Monday. And I can’t do it, Mommy. I’m so tired.”

 

Sam sat up and swallowed hard, listening to Dylan. “Dylan, that’s-- I know that it’s hard, baby, but it’ll get better.”

 

Dylan shook his head again, sniffling loudly. “What am I supposed to do? I missed my class today so first I have to get the notes before I can even start the project and I haven’t finished the chapter that I’m supposed to do the paper on and--” he let out a deep breath, closing his eyes, “I wanna come home.”

 

Sam smiled faintly and nodded. “I know that, Dylan. You-- it’s not the first time that you’ve said that. I did the university thing, Dyl; I know it’s hard but it’ll be worth it, right?”

 

“What if I can’t even get a job after all of this?” Dylan asked. “What if I just turn out to be god awful at it and I wasted all of this time? What’ll I do?”

 

Sam sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know, Dyl. You’ll come home and you’ll take time off and you’ll figure out what you really wanna do and what you’re good at and we’ll pay for you to go somewhere closer, so you can stay with us and we can help you. Sounds good, huh?”

 

Dylan nodded slowly. “Yeah, it does. I’m sorry I called, I think that I just overreacted, I’m just really tired.” He sighed, rubbing at his face. 

 

“Okay, go back to your room,” Sam said, wetting his lips. “No. Get a good meal in you first, go out somewhere. Then go home and sleep. No more work tonight, okay? Then tomorrow, it’ll all seem better. You’ll read your chapter, you’ll get your notes and then this weekend you do your work. Right?”

 

Dylan sniffled and smiled weakly, nodding. “Right. O-- okay.”

 

“Better?” Sam asked. “Less scary now?”

 

Dylan nodded. “Yeah. Tell Dad that I said hi, ‘kay? I’ve gotta go.”

 

“Of course,” Sam assured him. “I love you, Dyl.”

 

Dylan pushed himself up from the floor and began walking towards the door. “Yeah, I love you too, Mommy. I’ll call you later.” He turned off his phone and slipped it into his pocket, drying his eyes before stepping back out into the cold.

 

Sam pulled his phone away from his ear and stared at the screen for a moment, before sighing and turning it off. He reached over, dropping it down onto the coffee table before pushing himself up, reaching down to pick up his t-shirt. He smiled and shook his head, walking a couple more feet before picking up next article of clothing. “Rose petals would’ve been a bit more romantic,” he smiled, walking into the bedroom, grabbing his boxers off the mattress. 

 

Dean smiled and shrugged. “I had limited resources, Sammy. You’re lucky that you got this.”

 

Sam raised an eyebrow and looked around, setting his clothes back down on the floor in a small pile. “I’m lucky that you dropped my clothes all around the house?”

 

Dean nodded and patted the spot on the mattress beside him, grinning. “Was that your gay ring tone I heard?” he teased, looking up as Sam climbed on the bed beside him.

 

Sam nodded and curled up on his side, resting his head against Dean. “Yeah, that was Dylan,” he replied quietly, closing his eyes.

 

“Oh yeah?” Dean asked, wrapping his arm around Sam’s shoulders, pulling him in. “What’s going on with him?” He glanced down at his watch. “Was he in class?”

 

Sam shook his head. “He just missed it. He’s stressed out, papers and projects, readings and notes.”

 

“It’s a lot to put on a kid that school always came easy to,” Dean remarked. “He’ll be okay though. He made it through freshman year just fine, he can do this one too.”

 

Sam nodded slowly and as hard as he tried, he could feel tears to start to sting his eyes. “It just makes me upset…knowing that we’re here, and he’s all the way over there and--”

 

“And we can’t help him anymore,” Dean finished quietly, nodding. “I know. I know.” He kissed the top of Sam’s head, holding him close. “I wish we were there with him, or that he was here with us.”

 

Sam opened his eyes and looked around Dylan’s bedroom, running his fingertips over the stitching in the bare mattress. “He’ll come back. And we’ll be right here when he does.”

 

Dean smiled, chuckling softly. “Right here?” he echoed. “He’s probably gonna want us to move off his bed. Or you know, something.”

 

Sam smiled and lightly smacked Dean’s stomach, pushing himself awkwardly to kiss Dean’s cheek. “Not right here, but here here. Fullerton. California.”

 

“Not this street?” Dean asked. “You trying to hint at something, Sammy? Maybe a nice, new house for my little brother?”

 

Sam smiled and shook his head. “I’m not leaving this house. But Dylan might not wanna live with his parents when he does come back. We can only hope he has no problem living in the same city.” He sighed and snuggled in closer to Dean, yawning softly. “So, what was with the clothes anyway?”

 

Dean smiled and closed his eyes, wiggling down on the mattress. “Well, I was planning on seducing you. But, all this talk of our kid kind of turned me off of that. Plus the fact that you could stand your clothes on the floor a lot longer than I planned, and I think that I drifted off more than once. Also not great for the mood.”

 

Sam laughed and nodded. “Yep, I hear ya. Oh well. It’s nice for a change of scenery, and this bed’s just as comfortable as ours.”

 

“Maybe wanna camp out in here tonight?” Dean asked. “I’ll get the sheets, you get the cushions and pillows…”

 

“Like when I was three?” Sam asked, looking up at Dean, trying not to laugh again.

 

“Well, as I recall, you were at least four,” Dean corrected, even as he nodded. “But yeah. Just for fun. Us old folks can still have fun, you know.”

 

Sam stretched out on the mattress, toes pointing and fingers reaching, before almost instantly curling right back up, legs up to his chest, fingers splayed on Dean’s t-shirt. “Yeah, okay, sounds good to me. But not before we go out for supper.”

 

Dean grinned and nodded. “Hell yeah, Sammy. Subway, Subway!” he chanted, clapping his hands a couple of times. 

 

Sam smiled and shook his head, rubbing his face against Dean’s side. “Dylan said hi,” he said, batting his eyes a couple of times when he looked up.

 

Dean tilted his head back and yelled at the top of his lungs, “hi, Dylan!” before he began to laugh loudly, snorting a couple of times. “Do ya think he heard me?” he asked, still laughing.

 

Sam just groaned and rolled his eyes, dropping his head back down.

 

* * * *

 

Dylan reached out and grabbed a couple of fries, shoving them in his mouth before taking a large bite of his warm burger, moaning softly. He chewed slowly, and took a sip of his drink. “Mm, that’s good,” he said softly, shifting on his mattress. 

 

“Dude,” Paul began, not even looking up from his computer screen, “when the hell are you going to do the rest of this paper?” he asked.

 

Dylan grabbed a couple more fries and held his hand up to Paul, chewing before began to speak. He swallowed hard and took a drink, giving Paul a quick smile. “This weekend.”

 

Paul frowned and shook his head. “And you plan on having no other work to get done this weekend? You’ll never finish.”

 

Dylan sighed and took a bite of his burger. “I actually have a mini-project due on Monday too. I will also be doing that this weekend. It’s fine Paul, I’ve got a schedule. But my mom told me, for the rest of today, a good meal and sleep is all I need. Tomorrow’s a new day. Hopefully a better one.” He smiled again and held his fries up to Paul.

 

Paul finally looked over, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, looking back down at his screen. “Oh, hell yeah,” he said finally, lifting his laptop off his lap, moving off his chair to sit down on the floor by Dylan’s mattress. “Dude, you better have more of these because you know that I love them.” He grabbed a couple fries, shoving them in his mouth.

 

Dylan smiled and slowly reached into the bag, pulling out another thing of fries. “Yeah, I know, Paul,” he said, handing them over to Paul, whose eyes lit up and went wide.

 

“Man, I knew that there was a reason I let you be my roommate again,” Paul grinned, taking his fries. “You think maybe I should stop writing for the day? We can hit the movies or something, rent one.”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Dylan nodded, taking a quick sip of his soda. “Sounds good. Nothing too late though, we both gotta get our sleep.”

 

Paul nodded understandingly and took a bite of a fry. “Oh dude, seriously, I know. And I vote that we get actual breakfast tomorrow and not just rely on coffee.”

 

Dylan smiled, taking a bite of his burger. “Oh, definitely. And we don’t stay up all weekend.”

 

Paul raised an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side. “Okay now Winchester, that’s just crazy. How the hell else am I supposed to get with the ladies if I’m sleeping all weekend with you?” His eyebrow went down and his head straightened. “Okay, I didn’t mean that the way it came out. But…okay fine, maybe you’re right. We’ll go to bed and get up at normal times. I promise.”

 

Dylan smiled and grabbed a couple of his fries, breaking them in half before taking bites of them. “I can already see the second half of this year being better than the first,” he remarked, taking another bite.

 

* * * *

 

Dylan let out a loud sigh of relief as he handed his project over Professor Cooke, giving him a smile.

 

“Ah, Mr Winchester,” Professor Cooke said, glancing down at the work. “I see that you got your notes just fine.”

 

“Uh, yes sir,” Dylan nodded, grabbing onto one of the straps of his backpack. “It wasn’t a problem.”

 

“Well, I look forward to grading it then,” Professor Cooke said, pressing a couple of keys on his laptop. “I trust that I’ll see you tomorrow in class.”

 

Dylan nodded again. “Yeah, I’ll be there.” He smiled and gave Professor Cooke a curt nod, turning away from his desk. “He looks forward to grading it,” he echoed, smiling over at Victoria.

 

“I’m sure that you’ll do great,” Victoria nodded, reaching out for Dylan’s hand. “The same with your paper. Did you pass that in yet?” she asked.

 

Dylan glanced down at his watch. “Nope, couple of hours yet. Last class today.”

 

“Do you want me to read it over for you?” Victoria offered, glancing over at Dylan. “Or I could get the editor at the paper to do it.”

 

Dylan smiled and shook his head. “No, thanks anyway. I don’t even like the idea of teachers reading what I write. But I guess you don’t have that problem, huh? Saw your article today. Hunger Strikers Lifeless.”

 

Victoria shrugged. “Not my best work, I’ll admit, but at least I got it in. I think that my next story will be much more interesting.”

 

“Oh yeah?” Dylan asked, glancing over to her. “What’s that about?”

 

Victoria smiled and stopped walking, tilting her head up to give Dylan a kiss. “Cute boy finally takes his girlfriend out to dinner,” she teased, kissing him again.

 

“Okay, fine,” Dylan nodded. “This weekend, I promise. If--”

 

“You have no more papers or projects,” Victoria finished. She sighed, grinning at him. “Okay, sounds good to me.”

 

“Until then,” Dylan began, “we still have our lunches whenever we don’t have class. C’mon, I’ll treat ya to some Starbucks or something.” He squeezed her hand gently. “I can do that at least. Sound good?”

 

Victoria nodded eagerly, laughing loudly as she slipped a little on the icy sidewalk. “Yeah,” she agreed, “sounds good.”

 

Dylan wrapped an arm around Victoria’s waist, holding her close. “Wouldn’t want to fall on your ass now, would we?” he joked. “Although, it might make an interesting story for the paper. Maybe I should join up.”

 

Victoria laughed again. “You just you won’t even let me read your paper. You want the entire student body to read your article?” she asked.

 

“Well, I could just write it under an alias,” Dylan suggested. “A pen name.”

 

“A pseudonym,” Victoria said, nodding slowly. 

 

“DJ Winklater,” Dylan suggested, leading Victoria over to her car. He waited by her as she unlocked it, walking around once she was in. He waited a moment for her to unlock his door and climbed into the car, shivering once. “How’s that sound?”

 

“It sounds fine, but it’s too close to your actual name,” Victoria pointed out, turning the keys in the ignition, pulling on her seatbelt. “You’d have to pick something else.”

 

Dylan smiled, glancing out the window as she pulled away from the parking space. “So what would you suggest?” he asked.

 

Victoria thought for a moment while she waited for the opportunity to pull out of the parking lot. “Douglas K. Martinez.”

 

“Martinez?” Dylan repeated before he began laughing. “What? How do I look Hispanic to you?”

 

“You’re not,” Victoria said, “that’s the point. Nobody would expect the white, blond guy with gorgeous green eyes to have the last name Martinez. That’s why it works.”

 

Dylan smiled, shifting in his seat. “You think I’ve got gorgeous green eyes?” he asked, leaning over the seat.

 

Victoria nodded and gave Dylan a kiss. “You know you do.”

 

“Yeah, I know,” Dylan said, settling back in his seat.

 

* * * *

 

Sam groaned softly and stretched his arms above his head, going back to washing the dishes. “What are you doing?” he called behind him, leaning back from the sink.

 

Dean walked out of the bedroom, going over to Sam. “Nothing, just making the bed,” he replied, wrapping his arms around Sam’s waist, holding him close. “Those dishes can clean themselves, you know,” he said quietly, kissing Sam’s neck.

 

Sam sighed and dropped the glass back into the water. “Jesus, now you tell me?” he joked, before shaking his head. “I like washing the dishes. It’s relaxing.”

 

“It’s cleaning,” Dean pointed out, “how can it be relaxing? You’re cleaning dirt off of our dishes.”

 

“Well, I hope that it’s not actually dirt,” Sam said, “and it just is. The warm water, the smell of the dish soap…it’s my me time.”

 

“My me time involves a lot of lube,” Dean remarked, winking up at Sam. “But you know, whatever floats your boat, I guess.” He sighed and unwrapped himself from Sam, leaning against the counter. “What are we doing tonight?”

 

Sam shrugged, rinsing off a plate. “I don’t know. Sleep. Whatever.”

 

“I’m actually thinking movie,” Dean said, nodding. “Yeah, a movie. That new horror one. What do you say?”

 

“Sure,” Sam nodded, pulling off his gloves, starting to dry, “sounds good. When’s it start?”

 

“Like in an hour, I think,” Dean replied. “What do you wanna do until then?” he asked.

 

“Well, I think I know what you wanna do,” Sam smiled, putting the glasses away, “but I’ve gotta finish the dishes, Dean. Go watch some television until it’s time to go.”

 

Dean pushed himself up onto the counter, leaning back. “Nah, that’s okay. You’re much more interesting to watch.”

 

Sam smiled and blushed slightly, leaning over to give Dean a kiss as he put another glass away. “Really?” he asked, drying off a plate, reaching up to put it away.

 

“Sure,” Dean agreed, nodding. He sighed and settled back, watching Sam dry the dishes, rocking back and forth slightly. He cleared his throat gently, letting out a deep breath.

 

“Yeah, you can go watch TV, Dean,” Sam said eventually, smiling up at him.

 

“Okay, thank god,” Dean muttered, dropping down from the counter, making his way into the living room. “Just let me know whenever you’re done!” he called, dropping down onto the couch.


	36. Chapter 35

Title: Look What Love Has Done - Volume 3 - Chapter 35

Pairing: Sam/Dean

Disclaimer: Not mine

Rating: R this chapter

Summary: Bobby calls Sam and Dean with a hunt.

Author's Note: Forget volume one, forget volume two; this is volume three 

 

nineteen years, seven months and three days old

 

“Now you just quiet down for a minute, why don’t ya?” Bobby snapped, looking down at his dog. “Yeah, I know that you want something.” He slowly pushed himself up out of his chair, shaking his head when the dog jumped up. “I’m sorry if I ain’t as young as you these days,” he muttered, walking into the kitchen. He grabbed the bag of dog food and refilled the small bowl, leaning down to pet the dog’s neck, smiling at him. “There ya go, Johnboy.”

 

He pushed himself back up and walked over to the refrigerator, pulling open the door, looking inside. Bobby wet his lips and reached in, grabbing a plate of chicken and rice. He lifted it out, peeling back the corner of the plastic wrap, nodding to himself. “Still good,” he remarked, going over to the microwave. He reached up, pushing his hat off, scratching at his head as he turned on the timer, walking back off into the living room.

 

The dog perked up and took a couple of more bites before hurrying after Bobby, dropping down at his feet, looking up at him. Bobby just shook his head slowly, reaching out for the television remote, flicking through the channels. As he usually did, Bobby ended up on the news channel, settling into his chair. He sighed at the weather and pushed himself back up, walking into the kitchen, getting a drink. He waited the few more seconds for the microwave to beep and he gingerly lifted the warm plate out, walking back into the living room. Dropping down into his chair, he heard the sounds of sirens coming from his television.

 

“Yet another person was attacked by unknown animal in the Rapid City area,” the news reporter said, glancing behind her to a small field. “This time, Belle Fourche is home to the horrific sight that Spearfish, Blackhawk and Sturgis have been already seen in the past month.”

 

“Oh, crap,” Bobby muttered, taking a bite of his chicken. He sighed and shook his head, fixing his hat again. “What do you think, Johnboy?” he asked, gently nudging the dogs. “‘Bout time for somebody else to get involved?”

 

The dog whined and rolled onto his back, looking up at Bobby.

 

“Police on the scene say that the victim, a middle-aged man, was most likely a jogger,” the reporter continued, “who has yet to be identified at this time.”

 

Bobby reached out for his drink, wetting his lips with it before taking a large gulp.

 

* * * *

 

Dylan shifted in the hard plastic seat and sighed, head dropping forward. He looked up and rubbed at his temples, foot bouncing against the floor.

 

“Are you alright?” Victoria asked quietly, running her fingers through the ends of her long hair. She crossed her legs and looked up at the screen, taking a couple of quick mental notes.

 

Dylan nodded slowly, letting out a deep breath before resting his head on the table, looking up to the front of the lecture hall. “Yep, I’m good.”

 

Victoria smiled and reached out, placing her hand gently on Dylan’s back. “Regretting wanting to take a class with me?” she teased, hands finally dropping from her hair. 

 

Dylan cleared his throat and shook his head, straightening up. “Nope. Nope, I’m good. This is fun.”

 

“Miss Haynsworth,” the professor said, looking over to Dylan and Victoria, “would you be able to remind Mister Baber from what Gothic art diverged from?”

 

Victoria swallowed and nodded slowly, sitting forward. “That would Romanesque,” she said, looking over to Baber on the other side of the room. She gave the professor a quick smile and sat back in her seat, picking her hair elastic back up.

 

“I think you might end up tutoring me though,” Dylan said softly, looking up at Victoria. 

 

“Sounds like a date,” Victoria grinned, leaning down to kiss Dylan’s cheek. 

 

“And Mister Winchester,” the professor continued, spinning on his feet to look back towards them, “when did Gothic paintings begin to appear?”

 

Dylan swallowed hard and dropped his eyes, trying to quickly read through his notes. “Uh…” he let out a deep breath and shrugged, “eleven-forty?” he asked finally, looking back up.

 

“Incorrect,” the professor said quickly, turning back to the rest of the class.

 

Dylan’s shoulders fell and he shook his head slowly, rolling his lips into his mouth. 

 

“That was the year of the origins of Gothic architecture,” the professor corrected. “Gothic paintings did not begin until twelve hundred.”

 

Dylan rubbed weakly at his eyes and sighed, glancing over at Victoria, who was watching him carefully. “Well, that was interesting,” he muttered, flipping through his notes. He picked up his pen and quickly scribbled in the margin, dropping the pen back down onto his desk. 

 

Victoria giggled quietly and reached out, wrapping her arm around Dylan’s shoulders, leaning forward. “It’s okay,” she assured him with a whisper, pecking his cheek.

 

* * * *

 

Dylan’s fingers flexed in Victoria’s, looking around the quad. He sighed and smiled over at Paul, slipping his hand out of Victoria’s to give him a wave.

 

Paul pulled out one of his earphones and grinned, waving back as he jogged his way over. “Hello fellow students,” he nodded, wetting his lips.

 

Victoria quickly studied Paul before tightening her jacket around her. “I don’t know how you handle the weather, Paul. Isn’t it cold in Hartford?” she asked.

 

Paul looked around and shrugged, pulling at the hem of one of his sleeves. “Nah, it ain’t so bad. And where are you two off to?” he asked, looking around.

 

“I have class soon,” Victoria replied. “But the biotech room is just over there.”

 

“You want me to walk you anyway?” Dylan offered, glancing at her. “What about you Paul?”

 

“No, Dyl, I’m fine,” Paul grinned, shaking his head, “I can make it without you.”

 

Dylan smiled and rolled his eyes. “I meant where are you headed?”

 

“Havemeyer,” Paul replied, laughing. 

 

“Oh, human rights?” Victoria asked, perking up. “With Leander?”

 

Paul raised an eyebrow and nodded over at Victoria. “Uh, yeah.”

 

“Oh, I loved that class,” Victoria smiled. “I took it last year.”

 

“You took a human rights class for surgery?” Paul asked in surprise. “Uh…okay. Good for you. But I really gotta head over there sometime in the next fifteen. And Dyl, way to wake me up this morning.”

 

Dylan smiled, shaking his head. “And how was I supposed to know that you were still asleep? If you don’t wanna be woken up, turn off your phone.”

 

“Yeah, whatever,” Paul muttered. “Anyway, I’m gonna hit the ole dusty trial, if you’re interested.”

 

“You want me to walk you to Fairchild?” Dylan asked, turning to Victoria. “I can be a little late, I only have practice.”

 

Victoria smiled and shook her head, leaning up to give Dylan a kiss. She kept smiling against his lips and moved her gloved hands up, cupping his cheeks gently. 

 

Paul’s eyes opened wide and he looked away, trying to look anywhere but at Dylan and Victoria. He began tapping his foot, waving at people around them.

 

Dylan’s tongue came out to lick at Victoria’s lips and he stroked her cheekbone gently with his thumb, smiling when he pulled back. “Love you,” he said quietly, giving her another quick kiss.

 

“Love you too,” Victoria whispered, giving him a quick hug. “I’ll see you later alright? Don’t get hurt, that’s the last thing I need. An injured football star.”

 

Dylan laughed loudly and nodded, slowly walking backwards away from her. “Could be a nice story.”

 

Victoria grinned, laughing. “I’m sure it would be.” She waved at Paul and blew Dylan a quick kiss before turning away, walking towards her building.

 

“You two seriously disgust me,” Paul said, shaking his head slowly. “C’mon dude, that’s not cool.”

 

“Right, like I don’t have to put up with watching you flirt with every other girl on campus,” Dylan pointed out, starting off with Paul towards their buildings. “I know you don’t like her.”

 

“Didn’t say that,” Paul pointed out, shaking his head again. “She’s just an acquired taste. She’s hot enough I guess, little skinny for my liking. I like my girls with a little more meat on ‘em, if you get my drift.”

 

Dylan smiled and shook his head. “Yeah yeah, I get your drift. Can’t say I blame ya though; I always liked the people I dated to have a little more meat too.” He winked up at Paul, laughing when his friend stopped walking.

 

“Dude!” Paul exclaimed. “No! No! I told you, I get that you had a different life in Cali but you don’t need to be bringing it here.”

 

“I didn’t have a different life, Paul,” Dylan said, “I just had different tastes.”

 

“You liked the peen, boy,” Paul said, starting walking again. “That’s different than different tastes. That’s like--” he shuddered and shook his head. “My parents always said that things were different in California.”

 

“Paul, it’s not like I grew up in San Francisco,” Dylan grinned, “it was Fullerton. Practically the ‘burbs.”

 

“Where the hell are you going anyway?” Paul asked, pulling on the strap of his backpack.

 

“Dodge,” Dylan replied. “Coach wants us in the gym today. Working on my fitness.”

 

Paul laughed, shaking his head. “God, Dyl. Okay so, back to the boyfriend--”

 

“No,” Dylan interrupted. “I’m really good with just…not talking about that right now. ‘Kay?”

 

“I get it,” Paul nodded. “Yeah, sure. And Victoria’s great, no reason to bring up anybody else.”

 

“Thank you,” Dylan muttered, scratching at his forehead. “But I know that you don’t like her.”

 

Paul shrugged. “Whatever, Dyl. You gonna walk me in to my room and everything?” he teased.

 

Dylan thought for a moment, looking around, seeing a couple of his teammates walking the fitness center. “I think I’m gonna head in. But I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”

 

“Dude, I will so see you in anthro,” Paul said, jogging up the steps to the door. He waved behind him as he pulled the door open, slipping inside as a pair of girls walked out. Paul glanced back at them, watching them make their way down the steps before grinning at Dylan, giving him another wave.

 

Dylan waved and shook his head, walking off to the fitness center. He pulled his bag in front of him and began digging through the pockets, pulling out his earphones. He slipped one in and pulled the player out, shoving it into the pocket of his jeans. He nodded his thanks to the person who held the door open for him and walked in, seeing his coach.

 

“Get changed,” Coach Trommler said to Dylan, nodding towards the locker rooms. “Get your ass back in here in three or you’re doing crunches.”

 

Dylan smiled and nodded. “Good day to you, Coach,” he said, walking down the small hallway, turning right into the locker rooms. 

 

“Sixty-five, in the house,” one of his teammates said, clapping Dylan on the shoulder as he walked by. “Ass out in three.”

 

“Yeah yeah, I heard,” Dylan nodded, setting his bag down on a bench before sitting down beside it, pulling out his earbud. He quickly pulled off his shirt and grabbed his t-shirt out of his bag, pulling it on. He sighed and stood up, undoing his belt.

 

“He give you the same warning?” another teammate asked, hurrying into the locker room.

 

Dylan nodded and pulled on his shorts, pushing the tops of his socks down. “Crunches aren’t that bad anyway; you always kick my ass at it, Tay.”

 

Taylor nodded proudly, lifting his shirt to flash his abs. “Well, yeah, but being good at something doesn’t mean that I wanna do it all goddamn day.”

 

Dylan grinned and nodded understandingly, picking his music player back up. He made his out of the locker room and back up the hallway, going over to the coach. “Okay, what do you want me to do, Coach?” he asked, scratching at his chest. 

 

“Stop kissing up, first off,” Coach Trommler said, raising an eyebrow. “Secondly, I want push-ups. And you’re running laps.”

 

“Great,” Dylan muttered sarcastically, looking around for an empty space. “Any amount of push-ups or…” he shook his head slowly. “No?”

 

Coach Trommler sighed and looked around at the rest of his players. “Eighty. Come see me when you’re done.”

 

Dylan frowned, not sure whether eighty was supposed to be a lot or not and moved away from the coach and sighed, dropping down to his knees on a mat. He cleared his throat and turned his music up loudly before getting into the position, starting his push-ups.

 

* * * *

 

“Not gonna let ‘em catch the midnight rider,” Dean sang softly, drumming his hands on the counter. “But I’m not gonna let them catch me, no, not gonna let ‘em catch the midnight rider.” He groaned as he stretched his arms above his head, shoulders popping. 

 

“And here I thought you worked here,” Michael said, opening the door. 

 

Dean looked up, grinning. “Well hey hey, buddy. What the eff are you doing in here?” he asked, moving out from around the counter.

 

“When the frig are you going to retire, old man?” Michael joked, holding the door open for Albany. 

 

“Hey Alby,” Dean said, giving him a wave. “What are you looking for?” he asked.

 

“My dad said there’s books here,” Albany replied, pushing the hem of his shirt up just enough to scratch at his stomach.

 

“About…musicians,” Dean said slowly, swallowing hard. “And yep, they’re over there by the clocks. Looking for anybody in particular?” he asked.

 

Albany shook his head and just walked off towards the back, shoving his hands in his the pockets of his dark jeans. 

 

Dean nodded and pushed himself up onto the counter, swinging his legs. “And where is Miss Lorelai?” he asked, looking up at Michael.

 

“At Paula’s,” Michael replied quietly, nodding. “But uh, hear from Dylan lately?” he asked, smiling when he changed the subject.

 

“Yeah sure,” Dean nodded, “he calls. He’s doing good.”

 

“What’s he doing for Thanksgiving?” Michael asked. 

 

Dean shrugged, scratching at his head. “Uh, I think he’s staying there. Or um, his girlfriend’s family is from New Hampshire? And uh yeah, we think he might go there, since it’s so much closer. And Cill?”

 

“He’s coming home,” Michael replied, glancing back towards Albany. “Arizona’s not that far.”

 

“Lucky bastard,” Dean muttered, sticking his tongue out at Michael. “Hey Al, find what you’re looking for?” he called, pushing himself up a little.

 

Albany glanced back towards Dean and Michael, waving his hand. “I’m good,” he replied.

 

“You know what he’s looking for?” Dean asked, turning back to Michael. “Well anyway, not important.”

 

“How come you don’t stay at home?” Michael asked, looking around the store. “I mean…you don’t have to work, do you?”

 

Dean shook his head. “Nah, but I like it. Frig, sitting around all day, I don’t think I’d know what the hell to do with myself. Sam did it for years and pre-near went crazy, I couldn’t do it. I’ll sit around when I’m dead.”

 

Michael laughed, nodding, looking over when Albany began making his way up towards the front of the store. “And who exactly is paying for this venture?” he asked, reaching out to gently tug on a piece of Albany’s hair. 

 

Albany jerked away from Michael and made a face, handing the book up to Dean. “I got money,” he said, pulling out his wallet.

 

“Ooh, he’s got money,” Dean grinned, spinning around on the counter, jumping off. “Alright alright, let’s see what we gots. Albany, you’re too smart to such crappy taste in music,” he teased, nodding to himself, singing in his head. “You got twenty-three bucks on ya?” he asked, grabbing a bag.

 

Albany grabbed a couple of bills and handed it over to Dean, glancing up at his dad. “I suppose you want cash for gas or something.”

 

“Yeah, ‘cause that’s what I do,” Michael said, shaking his head, “charge my kids for what I gladly do. ‘Cause I’m that parent.”

 

“Are you gonna leave this store to Dylan?” Albany asked, looking up at Dean.

 

“Uh, nope,” Dean replied, shaking his head. “Something tells me that Dylan has bigger and better ideas of what to do with his life. I think I’ll just knock the place down, keep the land. Lot of money in land, you know. It’s always going up.” He handed Albany’s bag and change back over to him. “As soon as you get any amount of money Al, invest in the land. They’re not really making a lot more of it you know.”

 

“Good advice,” Michael nodded, looking at Albany. “I’d take it.”

 

Albany nodded slowly and shoved his change in his pocket, giving Dean a quick smile.

 

“Whoa!” Dean exclaimed, glancing at Michael, eyes wide. “It smiles! I didn’t know teenage boys still did that. Haven’t seen my own in so damn long.”

 

“He was here in the summer,” Albany said flatly, looking up at his father. “Are we going?”

 

Michael smiled and rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah. I except you and Sam to leave the house for something other than work once in awhile. Supper.”

 

“Our weekly poker game,” Dean nodded, reaching out to give Michael a quick high five. “See ya Sunday. See ya, Alby. Be good.”

 

Albany nodded and turned, walking towards the door of the store. 

 

“See ya,” Michael said, giving Dean a wave before following Albany out of the store. 

 

Dean grabbed his phone out of his pocket and glanced at the time before quickly dialing Sam’s number.

 

Sam jumped a little as his phone began to vibrate and he dug it out of his pocket, turning it on. “Hello?” he asked.

 

“What’re you wearing?” Dean asked, voice husky, wetting his lips.

 

“Is this Tiffany?” Sam asked, grinning. “‘Cause I thought I told you not to call me at work anymore.”

 

“Ooh, I’ll be whoever you want me to be,” Dean whispered, spinning around in his chair. “This Tiffany sounds hot.”

 

Sam grinned and rolled his eyes, pushing himself out of his chair. “What exactly do you want?” he asked, running his fingers over the spines of the books behind him.

 

“I wanna take my lover out for a romantic dinner,” Dean replied. “If that’s not too much of a problem.”

 

“We never eat in anymore,” Sam pointed out quietly. “I like to cook for you.”

 

“And I like to eat what you cook,” Dean assured him, “but I love to spend time with you. You don’t wanna go out?”

 

“Tonight?” Sam asked. “What brought this on?”

 

“Boredom,” Dean admitted, laughing softly. “Mike and Albany were here…Mike brought up Dylan,” he sighed. “I don’t like when people talk about Dylan.”

 

“Yeah, I know,” Sam said quietly. “So you wanna take me out to dinner? Where? Someplace fancy?”

 

“Sure,” Dean nodded. “When I pick you up, we can go home first and get changed. Does that sound okay?”

 

Sam sighed and smiled, nodding. “Yeah yeah, it sounds okay. You know it does or else you wouldn’t’ve even bothered to ask. I love you.”

 

“Yeah yeah,” Dean said, laughing, “I’ll talk to you later.”

 

Sam blew a kiss and turned off his phone, blowing out his breath as he sat back down in his chair, spinning around. He smiled to himself and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

 

“Twenty years and I can still make the goddamn kid swoon,” Dean muttered proudly, leaning back in his chair. “I rock.”

 

* * * *

 

Dean’s eyes widened and he looked over the menu to Sam. “What type of wine do we want?” he asked, apparently trying to be quiet but it wasn’t working.

 

“White,” Sam replied, looking up to the waiter. “Sauvignon Blanc, please.”

 

“Of course,” the waiter nodded, reaching out to take the menus. 

 

“What the hell did you just order me?” Dean asked once the waiter was gone. “Saw…blank?”

 

“Sauvignon Blanc,” Sam corrected, “it’s good and you’ll like it. It goes well with what we ordered.”

 

“Yeah, I was just picking colors,” Dean said, “you were pulling out names and crap. That’s why I brought you along. It was just going to be me and Tiffany, which, by the way, what the hell kind of name is that?”

 

Sam laughed and shrugged, wetting his lips. “I don’t know, the first name I thought of. But whoever Tiffany is, she’s got nothing on you.” He reached out with a long leg, drawing his foot up the inside of Dean’s leg. 

 

Dean grinned and glanced under the table, shaking his head slowly. “I think that you can wait until we get home,” he said, giving Sam a wink. “Love you.”

 

Sam smiled and dropped his foot back to the floor. “Love you too.” He smiled and sighed, sitting back in his seat. He groaned softly as he stretched as much as could without throwing his arms in the air and settled back down, rolling his neck. “God, I don’t wanna get up tomorrow,” he murmured, looking over to Dean. “Can I stay home from work?”

 

Dean smiled and reached out, grasping onto Sam’s hand. “Course you can, baby.”

 

Sam raised an eyebrow at that nickname.

 

“If I can stay home with you,” Dean continued. “A long weekend sounds nice to me.”

 

Sam nodded and murmured in agreement. “Sounds great. Are you serious?” he asked.

 

Dean nodded eagerly. “Whole day in bed. Those comfy pillows, those comfy sheets…that comfy man. Hmm.”

 

“Does comfy mean fat?” Sam asked, smiling at Dean. “‘Cause I am not fat.”

 

“Comfy means sexy as hell,” Dean replied.

 

“Oh,” Sam said, “well yeah, I can definitely deal with that.” He was about to push himself up to lean over the table before his phone rang and he sighed, pulling it out of his pocket. “Hello, Sam Winchester’s phone.”

 

“What an interesting way to answer your phone,” Bobby teased, walking around his living room.

 

“Hi, Bobby,” Sam said, immediately grinning. “What’s going on?”

 

“Bobby?” Dean repeated, frowning. “What’s he want?”

 

“Tell your brother to shut the hell up for once,” Bobby said. “And I’m wondering what you two are doing.”

 

“Uh, nothing,” Sam replied, smiling and nodding when the waiter came back with their bottle of wine. “We’re out for dinner.”

 

Dean reached out for his glass and took a quick drink, making a face before taking another. “Tastes like grapefruit. What’s going on?” he asked quietly, nodding up at the waiter.

 

“I think we’ve got ourselves a wolf out here,” Bobby said, sitting down in his chair. “And uh well, you know me…getting up there in years.”

 

Sam swallowed and sighed, nodding. “Uh yeah, I know. You’re sure it’s…our type of job?” he asked, looking around the restaurant.

 

“Best as I can tell,” Bobby replied. “And if it ain’t well, get a trip out of it.”

 

Sam smiled and reached out, scratching his cheek. “You want us to come and take care of it. Even though we haven’t hunted in…ten years?”

 

“A hunt?” Dean asked, leaning forward. “Bobby’s got a hunt for us? Where? Or uh, what?”

 

“Dean sounds enthusiastic,” Bobby pointed out. “Good, I’m glad to hear it. What about you Sam? What’re you doing that you can drop?”

 

Sam looked over at Dean, waving his hand. “I uh, are you sure that you want us on this Bobby? Maybe we should just leave it. Might take a lot of work to find a wolf.”

 

“No!” Dean exclaimed, reaching over to grab the phone out of Sam’s hand. “Listen Bobby, I will come. Okay? I might be able to convince Sam to take a couple of days off, since he already agreed to one,” he said, smiling at Sam. “I’ll do it. Love ‘em.”

 

Sam sighed and shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Great,” he muttered, shoulders slumping.

 

“Well, you know where to find me,” Bobby said, reaching out for his mug of coffee. “I’ll be here when you are. Make it quick; four dead already.”

 

“Four?” Dean repeated. “Uh, wow.”

 

“Pretty bad too,” Bobby remarked. “Worse than I’ve seen in a long while. But I think that you boys can handle it.”

 

“I cannot believe this,” Sam whispered harshly, making a face at Dean. “A hunt?”

 

Dean held a finger up to his mouth, nodding, still listening to Bobby. “Okay well, I’ll see what we can do. I’ll be there as soon as possible. Alright, you too, Bobby, talk to you later.” He turned off the phone and handed it over the table to Sam, giving him a quick smile. “Werewolf.”

 

“Heard,” Sam said, slipping the phone into his pocket. “Heard you volunteer yourself to hunt it.”

 

“Yeah well,” Dean shrugged, “that’s what I do.”

 

Sam sighed and shook his head. “Dean, I don’t want that to be what you do. I want you to-- to not want to do this. I thought that you were over this.”

 

“Sammy, c’mon,” Dean said. “It hasn’t been as easy for me as you, to give it all up. And Bobby needs our help. Will you come with me?”

 

Sam dropped his eyes when the waiter came back with their food, playing with the edges of his napkin. 

 

“The grilled chicken for you,” the waiter said, setting the plate down in front of Dean, “and the seafood for you,” he said, giving Sam his plate. 

 

“Thanks,” Sam said softly, looking up to the waiter. He reached out for his glass, taking a sip of the wine before taking a bite of his food.

 

* * * *

 

Sam undid the knot in his tie, slipping it off his neck. He yawned softly as he shoved the tie in his top drawer, unbuttoning his shirt. 

 

“Good boy,” Dean said softly, kissing the top of the dog head, before reaching up to flick off the lights. “Night Chucky,” he said, walking off towards the bedroom. He stumbled a bit as he walked into the room, grinning over at Sam. “Damn that wine was good,” he smiled. “Think I’m a little tipsy.”

 

Sam glanced over to Dean, letting out a deep breath. “Glad you liked it,” he muttered, shrugging off his jacket.

 

Dean walked up behind Sam and began pulling Sam’s shirt off his shoulders, pressing his lips to Sam’s shoulders as the shirt slid off. “Don’t be mad,” he said softly, moving his mouth up to Sam’s ear.

 

Sam stiffened and closed his eyes, trying not to shrug Dean off of him. “Not mad; tired. I’m gonna go to bed.”

 

Dean sighed and nodded, stepping back from Sam. “Okay. I’m gonna have a shower first before I hit the sheets. You good?”

 

Sam nodded and walked over to his side of the bed, sitting down to pull off his shoes and socks. “I’m just great,” he said flatly, straightening up to stare at the wall for a moment. 

 

“Sam,” Dean said quietly, taking a step towards the bed, “come with me. It’ll be like a mini-vacation. Just the two of us.”

 

“And Bobby and werewolf make four,” Sam muttered, shaking his head. “I don’t wanna go. I wanna stay here.”

 

Dean sat down on the edge of the mattress beside Sam, leaning his head on Sam’s shoulder. “Okay.” He turned his head and kissed Sam’s cheek, smiling against his skin. “I want you to go. I want you to come with me,” he said softly, kissing Sam’s cheek again.

 

Sam swallowed and his head fall forward, eyes closing. He took a deep breath and nodded, just a bit. “Okay,” he said finally, looking back up at Dean.

 

* * * *

 

“Wait, where are you?” Dylan asked, standing up from his table.

 

Sam sighed and looked around as Dean pulled up the driveway. “Bobby’s. He-- he needs our help with something.”

 

“With a hunt?” Dylan asked quietly, glancing back at Victoria. “Uh…what?”

 

“He thinks it’s a werewolf,” Sam replied, looking up when Bobby opened the front door. “God knows if it really is.”

 

“God doesn’t have to,” Dylan said, “Bobby does.”

 

Sam smiled and closed his eyes for a moment, nodding. “I just didn’t want you calling home if you needed something ‘cause we’re not there.”

 

“Can I come?” Dylan asked eagerly. “I’ve always wanted to go on an actual hunt like this.”

 

“And that would be a no,” Sam said, pushing open the car door. “I don’t even wanna be here, and I’m not going to risk my son’s life.”

 

“He wants to come?” Dean asked, popping his gum, glancing over at Sam. 

 

Sam nodded and closed his door, giving Bobby a wave. “Just be good, okay?” he asked. “Don’t even worry about us.”

 

Dylan swallowed hard and nodded jerkily. “I remember that hunt, with Grampie in uh…Oregon. The Wendigo. Dad almost died.”

 

Sam sighed and nodded, looking over to Dean. “I’ll protect him, I promise.” He smiled and walked around to the back of the car, grabbing his bag out of the trunk. “Just be good,” he said again.

 

Dylan smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I promise. Be careful. Love you.”

 

“Love you,” Sam said, handing the phone over to Dean.

 

“Hey kiddo, what’s going on?” Dean asked, holding the phone up to his ear with his shoulder. “You wanna swing by?”

 

“Mom told me I shouldn’t,” Dylan said, giving Victoria a quick smile. “I gotta go. Me and Victoria are out. Just…I love you, Dad.”

 

Dean smiled. “Don’t spend your whole weekend worrying about me,” he said, starting up towards the house, “just be good. Love you too though, Dyl.” He turned off the phone and tossed it over to Sam, grinning up at Bobby. “Bobby, Bobby, Bobby. What the hell, old man?” He opened his arms and pulled Bobby in for a quick hug. “Glad to hear from ya. Only person that makes me feel young.”

 

Sam smiled and rolled his eyes, falling in behind Dean. “Hi Bobby,” he said, walking into the house. “Nice to see you.”

 

Bobby nodded and closed the door after them, fixing his hat. “How’s Dylan?” he asked.

 

“Good,” Sam nodded. “He uh, he actually just called. He’s doing good.”

 

“Glad to hear it,” Bobby said, reaching out to pat Dean’s shoulder. “And what about you two? Christ, been so long since you two came up to visit.”

 

Sam nodded absentmindedly, walking slowly over to the living room, looking in. He smiled and swallowed hard, glancing back to Dean. “Feels like we never left.” He drummed his fingers against the wall and grinned at Bobby. “Can we go put our stuff away? Then you tell us about it?”

 

Bobby nodded and waved his hand up the stairs, going off towards the kitchen.

 

“Something’s off,” Dean murmured, looking back to Sam as they began making their way up the stairs.

 

“He’s in his seventies,” Sam pointed out quietly, looking down the stairs, “of course something’s off. He lives all alone up here, it’s kind of sad.”

 

Dean sighed and nodded slowly, opening the door to their regular room. “What, you wanna take him home with us?”

 

Sam shrugged, setting his bag down on the floor by the bed. “No, but I mean…when you think about it, all of the things that have happened here. This was our home before California was. And I love him.”

 

Dean shrugged off his jacket, dropping it down onto the bed. “Yeah, I know. Love him too. But he seems kind of loopy. Not the same Bobby anymore.”

 

Sam shook his head slowly, dropping his eyes. “He probably isn’t,” he said, looking up at Dean. He stood up and wrapped his arms around Dean, burying his face in Dean’s neck. “If I ever get like that…will you take care of me?” he asked quietly, looking at Dean.

 

“Sam, I’ll probably go first,” Dean pointed out, giving Sam a kiss.

 

Sam swallowed hard and sniffled. “But if you don’t. If you’re okay and I’m not, will you take care of me?”

 

Dean nodded and tightened his arms around Sam, holding him close. “It’s my job to protect you, little brother,” he said softly, “that’s not going to ever change. I promise.” He pulled back, kissing Sam again, giving him a small smile. “Take care of me?” he asked.

 

Sam closed his eyes and nodded, kissing Dean’s forehead. “You know it,” he whispered, reaching down to grasp onto Dean’s hand. “C’mon, let’s go hear about it.”

 

* * * *

 

“It’s sort of a family emergency, Victoria,” Dylan said, shoving some clothes into his bag. “It’s my uncle. My parents are with him.”

 

“Then why do you need to go?” Victoria asked, pressing her hands into his mattress. “We have classes.”

 

“Victoria, I know,” Dylan said, zipping up his bag. “And maybe I’ll send a mass email to my profs. But this is important to me. Bobby has always been there for me and my family.”

 

“Your parents said that they didn’t want you there,” Victoria pointed out.

 

“My mom said he didn’t want me there,” Dylan said, “which means that my dad does and that it’s probably really important. My mom is like, freakishly protective. Of course he doesn’t want me there.”

 

“Why would he need to be protective of you?” Victoria asked, straightening up. “What’s going on with him?”

 

“I’m not sure,” Dylan admitted, looking around for his confirmation number.

 

“Why can’t I come with you?” Victoria asked, pushing herself up.

 

“Uh…” Dylan sighed and just shook his head. “Victoria, not now, okay? I’m sorry, but this is-- it’s a family, a personal family matter.”

 

“I’m your girlfriend!” Victoria exclaimed. “What’s more personal than that?”

 

“My parents!” Dylan cried back. “Victoria, I love you, I do, but this is just my…I need to go to see them. And it’s not your place. Not yet.”

 

Victoria practically began to pout and crossed her arms in front of her. “How much do I even really know about you, Dylan?” she asked. “Who is this uncle in South Dakota? What is so important?”

 

Dylan sighed and shook his head, grabbing onto his jacket. “Victoria, you know what you need to know. And trust me, you know all that you want to know. My family-- my life, you just wouldn’t like it.”

 

“Give me an example,” Victoria said, following after Dylan as he began to walk out of his room. “Give me the chance to decide what I can or cannot like.”

 

Dylan turned around quickly, pulling on the strap of his backpack. “Well, I lost my virginity when I was thirteen and the-- the person that I loved the most in my life? Was a guy. His name was Danny. He was my best friend and I-- we dated. We were engaged. I was going to marry him before he broke up with me. Now, fucking deal with that while I’m gone, and I’ll see you later.” He turned back and hurried off down the hallway, glancing back at her as he opened the door to the stairwell.

 

Victoria stared in disbelief, body trembling, and her eyes began to fill with tears, not sure what to say or do.

 

Dylan rubbed at his eyes and shook his head, wanting to stop and go back to her, before he realized that he’d have no idea what to say to her anyway. “Fuck,” he muttered, going out into the lobby.

 

* * * *

 

“He was right,” Sam said, shaking his head, “this is worse than any wolf I’ve ever seen.”

 

Dean sighed, flipping the pictures over. “You think it is a wolf?” he asked.

 

“I can’t think of what else it would be,” Sam replied. “I mean…what else could do this? But I mean, fuck, it doesn’t make any sense. It doesn’t match up with any lunar cycle. It can’t be a werewolf, unless they’ve suddenly changed everything since we’ve stopped.”

 

“D’you think that Bobby called us out here for nothing?” Dean asked. “Maybe this is a case for the FBI or something. A serial killer.”

 

Sam instantly shuddered and shook his head. “I’m tired,” he muttered, head dropping forward onto the table. “Can we go to bed?” he asked, reaching out to tug on the hem of Dean’s sleeve.

 

“If you want,” Dean nodded, pushing his chair back from the table. “Hey, Bobby! We’re heading up to bed. What are you doing?”

 

“Leave the light on,” Bobby said gruffly, looking up from the television. 

 

“Sure thing,” Dean nodded, reaching his hand out for Sam. He grasped on and walked into the living room, crouching down by Bobby’s chair. “You okay? You want us to help you up to bed?”

 

“I’m fine,” Bobby assured him, reaching out for his bottle of beer. “Night.”

 

Dean smiled and nodded, patting Bobby’s shoulder as he straightened back up. “Goodnight,” he said, leading Sam over to the stairs.

 

“Night, Bobby,” Sam said, waving behind him, climbing the stairs. He sighed and leaned up, taking a deep breath, smelling the fabric softener on Dean’s shirt. “Tuck me in,” he said softly, leaning against the wall as Dean pushed the bedroom door open.

 

Dean grinned and rolled his eyes, closing the door behind them. “Yeah, I’ll tuck you in alright,” he muttered, laughing softly.

 

* * * *

 

“What are you even doing here?”

 

Dean jerked awake and automatically reached out for Sam, hand hitting empty mattress. He yawned and stretched, slowly lifting his head up, looking around. 

 

“Mom, c’mon,” Dylan said, looking up at Sam, “how could I not come?”

 

“I told you not to,” Sam pointed out, “and here I just assumed that you would listen. Go home Dyl, or-- or back to school. You should be there.”

 

“I kind of…shouldn’t be there right now,” Dylan said quietly, dropping his eyes. “I might’ve yelled at Victoria. So I have to stay, to give her time to deal with what I told her.”

 

Dean walked down the stairs, feet heavy, trying to get their attention. “What’s going on?” he asked flatly, looking at Dylan. “What are you doing here?”

 

Sam sighed and scratched his ear, shaking his head. “God knows.”

 

“You-- I just didn’t want--” Dylan groaned loudly and shook his head, “I just wanted to be here. Is that so bad?” he asked. “It’s dangerous.”

 

“For you, maybe,” Sam said, “but we’re hunters, this is sort of what we do.”

 

“Finally got him to admit it,” Dean muttered, scratching at his stomach as he walked by the two of them, “good for you.”

 

Dylan sighed and crossed his arms, looking up at Sam. “Mom, this isn’t the worst thing ever. I’m here to help.”

 

“With what?” Sam snapped, looking back over to him. “Dylan, go back to school.”

 

“Why are you so upset to see me here?” Dylan asked quietly, swallowing. “Are you mad at me?”

 

Sam shook his head and sighed, reaching out to pull Dylan into his arms. “No, I’m not mad at you,” he said quietly, kissing the side of Dylan’s head, “I just don’t like you near hunts, is all. No place for a kid.”

 

“I’m not a kid anymore,” Dylan said quickly.

 

Sam nodded. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that. When did you even show up?”

 

“Bobby let me in around four,” Dylan replied, walking over to the couch, dropping down. “I slept here.”

 

“What’d you yell at Victoria about?” Sam asked, sitting down slowly in one of the large chairs. “How bad was it?”

 

Dylan sighed and shook his head. “I told her I was gay,” he muttered finally.

 

“What?” Dean asked, sticking his head back into the living room. “You told your girlfriend that you were gay?”

 

“Okay, maybe not so much,” Dylan admitted, “but I told her about Danny. Or…that I loved him. That we were engaged. That the person I loved most was a guy. I guess she can take from that what she wants.”

 

“Sounds fun,” Dean said, going back into the kitchen. 

 

“I think it’s about time that we meet her,” Sam said, “she sounds interesting.”

 

“You wouldn’t like her,” Dylan said softly. “Nobody does. Except for me.”

 

“You don’t think that there’s a reason for that?” Sam asked pointedly. “Dyl, if she’s not a nice person--”

 

“She is,” Dylan interrupted, eyes flicking over to Sam. “To me. She’s just…smarter than people, they take it as snobby.”

 

“I think the guy banging her might be a little blinded,” Dean said, walking into the living room with his coffee.

 

Dylan blushed and swallowed hard. “That’s not fair, Dad.”

 

Dean shrugged, taking a drink. “Oh well, nobody said life was fair, now did they?”

 

Dylan shook his head. “Nope. They most definitely did not.” He reached out, running his fingers along the edges of the pillows. “It’s not a werewolf.”

 

“Yeah, we kind of figured,” Dean nodded, looking over at Sam.

 

“Don’t know what it is though,” Sam continued. “Not yet.”

 

“Mares,” Dylan said, lifting his head up. “Of something.”

 

“Mares?” Dean asked quietly, looking up when Bobby began slowly making his way down the stairs. “Hey Bobby, you know anything about mares?”

 

“Horses,” Bobby said, walking into the living room.

 

Sam sighed and shook his head. “No Bobby, not like that. Like…anything supernatural? The Mares of…” he trailed off, waving his hand.

 

Bobby paused, thinking for a moment. “Diomedes,” he replied eventually, making his way into the kitchen.

 

Dylan snapped his fingers and nodded once. “Yeah, that’s it. The Mares of Diomedes. Man-eating horses.”

 

Sam frowned and looked over at Dean, who just shrugged. “Yeah, okay. Sounds…how’d you figure this out?” he asked.

 

Dylan shrugged, picking at a hole in the couch. “I researched it. I knew it wasn’t a werewolf, there’s nothing in the lunar cycles.”

 

Dean swallowed his coffee and smiled faintly. “He’s definitely yours,” he murmured, glancing over at Sam, who couldn’t help but smile.

 

“I don’t know,” Dylan admitted, looking back and forth between his parents. “On the news, or-- or the net, it said somewhere that the first person on one of the scenes heard horses. In a place where horses wouldn’t be. I figured it was a clue.” He sighed, pushing himself up off the couch.

 

“Where you going?” Sam asked, frowning.

 

“I thought that you wanted me to go,” Dylan said flatly, looking over at Sam. “Isn’t school where I’m supposed to be?”

 

“When’s your flight out for, hon?” Sam asked, before his eyes widened. “I mean…Dyl.”

 

“Couple of days,” Dylan replied, sitting back down on the couch. “I thought that that would be enough time. And I didn’t figured that I’d be hunting it anyway.” He yawned loudly, bringing his legs up onto the couch.

 

“Mares of Diomedes,” Bobby murmured, walking into the living room. “Yeah, sounds ‘bout right. Good catch, Dylan.”

 

Dylan smiled and nodded tiredly, closing his eyes. “Thanks,” he said quietly, yawning again.

 

Sam stood up and pulled off his hoodie, laying it down over Dylan’s arms. “Get some sleep, kiddo,” he said quietly, kissing his forehead. “I love you. And it’s great to see you.”

 

Dean reached out, lightly grasping onto Dylan’s ankle, grinning. “Yeah, Dyl, nice surprise.”

 

* * * *

 

Dean swallowed hard and weighed the heavy axe with his hands, nodding to himself. “You…expect me to do this?” he asked, looking at Bobby. “Cut off their heads?”

 

Bobby nodded. “Books aren’t very clear on it, Dean. But I think it’ll do.”

 

“And if they eat me first?” Dean asked, glancing back when Sam walked into the room. “Axe,” he said, lifting the heavy handle. “I gotta behead them.”

 

Sam sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, looking up at him. “Are you going to be okay?” he asked, reaching out to link fingers Dean. 

 

Dean nodded and let out a deep breath, examining the blade. “Maybe you should do this,” he said, looking down at Sam. “You always had the upper-body strength.” He swallowed hard, trying not to tremble with nerves. “Helluva way to jump back into hunting, huh?”

 

“You want me to do this?” Sam asked. “I will. Or…if you don’t want to, I will.”

 

Dean wet his lips and glanced over at Bobby before looking back down to Sam. “What about Dylan?” he asked quietly. “Football player.”

 

Sam dropped his eyes and his hand fell from Dean’s. “I don’t know. No. Too much. His first hunt? Too dangerous.”

 

“I’ll go with him,” Dean suggested. “I’ll be with him every step of the way. But the kid needs to do this. ‘Cause we can’t.”

 

Sam closed his eyes let out a deep, shaky breath. “Dean…”

 

“I’ll go get him,” Bobby said, walking over to the door.

 

“Sam, I’m too old for this,” Dean set, reaching down to set the axe on the bed by Sam. “Not strong enough. Four horses.” He sighed, shaking his head. “It’d be hard enough on Dylan. But I’ll go with him. I’ll watch him. I’ll protect him.”

 

“I’m not risking his life for this,” Sam said. “We don’t know these people. Our lives aren’t the ones at risk.”

 

“Don’t we do this every time?” Dean asked, trying to smile at Sam.

 

“Bobby said you wanted me,” Dylan said, leaning against the doorframe. “Is everything okay?” He walked into the room, slowing down when he saw the axe beside Sam. “That’s…what you have to us?”

 

Sam glanced down and nodded, wetting his lips. “That’s it,” he said. “We wanna talk to you.”

 

“Will you do it?” Dean asked quickly. “I’ll go with you. I will protect you with-- with everything I’ve got and as best I can. But I can’t do it.”

 

Dylan swallowed hard, reaching out for the axe, lifting it much easier than Dean could. “I have to…chop their heads off?” he asked, glancing up at Dean. “They’re man-eating horses.”

 

Dean nodded. “Yeah, I know. And yeah, you do.” He looked down at Sam, who was watching Dylan carefully. “If I have to, I’ll…I’ll do anything to make sure that they don’t hurt you, Dylan,” he said softly, reaching out for his son. “Okay?”

 

Dylan let out a breath and stared down at the almost rusty blade, getting a feel for it in his hands. He swallowed and looked back up, finally nodding once. “Okay,” he agreed, looking down at Sam, who was working his lip between his teeth.

 

* * * *

 

Dean reached out, pressing his arm to Dylan’s chest, pushing him back. “Shh,” he said softly, glancing at Dylan, whose eyes were wide. “It has to be right after they finish feeding,” he whispered. “They’ll be relaxed.”

 

Dylan nodded jerkily and closed his eyes, unable to watch the horses devouring the woman, hands shaking.

 

Dean swallowed hard and stepped out a bit, standing in front of Dylan. He cupped his cheeks gently and leaned forward, kissing Dylan’s forehead. “Hands-- hands strong, Dylan. Steady. Okay?”

 

Dylan opened his eyes and nodded again, letting out a deep breath. “What if they attack me?” he asked quietly. “When I kill the first one?”

 

“I told you,” Dean began, “that I won’t let them.” He reached down, lifting up the heavy shotgun from against the building. “If one of ‘em even looks at you funny, they’re dead. I promise.”

 

“Will their blood get on me?” Dylan asked, voice tiny.

 

Dean glanced down at Dylan’s outfit and nodded. “Yeah,” he admitted, “it will. I’ll burn ‘em myself, don’t worry ‘bout it.” He patted Dylan on his shoulder, looking back to the horses. “They’re finished,” he said, turning to Dylan. “You have to be quick, but it has to be strong.”

 

“What if it doesn’t go all the way through?” Dylan asked worriedly. “But mostly?”

 

“Mostly should be fine,” Dean nodded. “Get them down. Bleeding. Almost dead. We’ll shoot ‘em afterwards if we have to.”

 

Dylan swallowed and stepped forward, squeezing his eyes shut.

 

“Eyes open,” Dean said quickly, squeezing Dylan’s shoulder. “That’s probably one of the most important parts.”

 

One of the horses neighed loudly and slowly began laying down, snorting.

 

“Him first?” Dylan asked, stepping forward again. He carefully began making his way over to the horses, and his eyes squeezed shut without even meaning to.

 

Dean sniffled and began praying quickly and silently, watching Dylan walk gently on the grass.

 

“Christ,” Dylan breathed harshly, only a couple of feet away from the horse, eyes filling with tears. He tried not to sniffle and his fingers flexed around the handle as he began raising it above his head, crying out loudly when the blade dropped and hit the horse in the head. 

 

The horse cried out loudly and tried to jump back up but Dylan hit it again, tears spilling over as he felt warm blood spray onto his face.

 

Dean cringed and his finger began pressing lightly on the trigger of his gun, ready and waiting for the split-second that Dylan would need his help. 

 

Dylan began sobbing quietly as he moved over to the second horse, who had already begun pushing himself up off the ground. Dylan brought his arms down, hitting the horse in the back, crying harder at the sound the horse let out as it fell to the ground, eyes looking up at him. Dylan hit the horse again and dropped down onto the grass, letting go of the handle.

 

Dean frowned and quickly pushed himself off the side of the building, hurrying over. He lifted the gun and shot it as quickly as he could, hitting the last horse. He shot again and dropped the gun, going to the ground beside Dylan. “It’s okay,” he said quietly, wrapping his arms around him, holding him close.

 

Dylan shook his head, sobbing into Dean’s shirt, clutching at him helplessly. “Daddy,” he cried, shoulders shaking. “How do you do this?” he asked, voice trembling.

 

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, keeping Dylan with him. “I don’t know,” he admitted, looking down at the blood on the grass. “Jesus Dylan, I’m so sorry.”

 

Dylan sniffled loudly and continued to cry, fingers digging into Dean’s back. “I wanna go home,” he sobbed, rocking back and forth in Dean’s arms.

 

* * * *

 

Sam shifted on the floor and reached out, grabbing onto the shampoo. “It’s okay, Dylan,” he said softly, pouring some onto Dylan’s hair, working it in gently. 

 

Dean lifted his head and swallowed hard, moving against the wall.

 

Dylan scrubbed relentlessly at his arms and check and face until his skin was red and raw, blood gone. “I can-- it looked at me, Mom,” he said, looking over at Sam, before closing his eyes as he felt the shampoo begin to run down his forehead.

 

Sam nodded slowly. “I know,” he said, “I know. Dylan, those weren’t-- they weren’t horses. Those things killed five people, we had to stop them.”

 

Dylan nodded and brought his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. “I can’t do that again.”

 

“Good,” Sam nodded. “I don’t want you to. Ever again, okay? That’s not what I ever want for you.”

 

“How did you do it?” Dylan asked, tears filling his eyes again. “How Grampie teach you how to do that? It’s awful, they…I killed them.” His shoulders trembled. “I feel so gross. I wanna go home.”

 

“We’ll take you back to school,” Sam assured him, looking over to Dean, who just nodded silently. “It’ll be okay. The nightmares will go away. They always do.”

 

Dylan swallowed and tried not to gag as he looked down at the pink-tinged water, nails digging into his legs. “You shot it,” he said, looking over to Dean. “So easily. You didn’t even think.”

 

“You don’t,” Dean said, shaking his head slowly. “Not when your kid’s life is at risk. There’s never any time.”

 

Dylan dropped his eyes, reaching out to turn the hot water on. He sighed softly, toes wiggling as the water warmed back up. He sniffled and let his head rest on his knees. “I really gotta call Victoria sometime,” he said finally, shifting in the tub, closing his eyes.

 

Sam swallowed hard and sighed, looking over to Dean, who was just frowning slightly.


	37. Chapter 36

Title: Look What Love Has Done - Volume 3 - Chapter 36

Pairing: Sam/Dean

Disclaimer: Not mine

Rating: PG-13 this chapter

Summary: When Dylan buys Victoria a ring for her birthday, he makes a mistake he’s not sure he can get out of.

Author's Note: Forget volume one, forget volume two; this is volume three 

 

twenty years, one month and three days old

 

Paul reached out and pulled open one of the doors in the mall entrance, letting Dylan and Victoria walk ahead of him, grinning at Piper. “What you drinking there?” he asked, trying to peer down into the straw.

 

Piper grinned and held the cup up to Paul, letting him take a sip. “Smoothie,” she replied, watching his lick off his lips.

 

“Yum,” Paul said, glancing ahead at Dylan and Victoria. “You might have to give me another sip of that.” He wrapped his lips around the end of the straw again, wrapping an arm around her waist. “What is that, banana?”

 

“And kiwi,” Piper nodded, giggling softly when Paul slipped his hand into one of her back pockets. “What are you two going to do?” she called up to Victoria and Dylan.

 

They both turned around and Victoria dug her lip gloss out of her bag, looking over to Dylan. “Uh, I don’t know,” Dylan replied, shaking his head. “We aren’t just all going to hang out together?” he asked.

 

“Well, I was just wondering,” Piper said, “if you guys wanted to go off on your own or not.”

 

Dylan looked over to Victoria, shrugging. “No, I’m fine hanging out with you guys. We did all come together and…yeah. Victoria?” he asked.

 

Victoria twisted the cap back on her lip gloss and nodded. “Of course we’re staying together. Although I’m sure there’s a couple of stores the boys won’t want to go into with us,” she smiled over at Piper. “And somebody has to get my birthday present,” she continued, eyes going back to Dylan. 

 

“Right,” Dylan said quietly, looking over to Paul. “Well okay, you know, it’s not really much of a surprise since-- since you know I’m getting you something.”

 

“Yeah, but I don’t know what you’re getting me,” Victoria pointed out, grinning. “Of course you’re getting me something. You’re my boyfriend.”

 

Paul tried not to laugh and shook his head, looking at Piper. “Maybe we should leave them alone,” he suggested.

 

“We’re not fighting,” Dylan said quickly, shaking his head. “Let’s just…go. Girls lead the way.” He let his hand drop from Victoria’s and he walked over to Paul, taking Piper’s place beside him.

 

“Boys,” Victoria muttered, smiling at Piper.

 

Paul rolled his eyes, glancing over at Dylan. “Girls.”

 

“What do you think he’s going to get you?” Piper asked quietly, looking up at Victoria.

 

“I’m not sure,” Victoria replied, looking around the mall. “I’m not sure that I trust him enough to pick it out without me.” She laughed, glancing back at Dylan and Paul. “So, what’s going on with you and Paul?” she asked. “Are you actually dating yet?”

 

Piper shook her head, taking a drink. “Not yet. We’re just…flirting. Some heavy petting. I don’t know.”

 

Victoria laughed loudly, pushing her hair behind her ear. “Well, we all go home in a couple of days. Maybe you should figure out what you are before we go away for the summer.”

 

Piper looked back at Paul, who just gave her a wave. “Maybe I’ll just go home with him,” she suggested, taking another drink.

 

“How much money you think she expects you to spend on her?” Paul asked. “Isn’t she a trust fund baby?”

 

“Yeah well, I’m not,” Dylan pointed out, “so she better not be expecting much.” He sighed and groaned softly as he began scratching at his neck, looking up at Paul. “She wants to come home with me. For a couple of weeks. Finally meet my parents.”

 

“Dude, I can’t believe she hasn’t met them yet Paul said, shaking his head. “Actually, I can’t believe that she’s all ready and willing to fly to California to meet them.”

 

“My parents do better on their own turf,” Dylan said, the both of them hovering a few feet behind the girls, who had stopped in front of a store. “Well, I mean, they hardly do well on their own, but if they had to go to New Hampshire to her-- her villa or whatever she calls it…” he shook his head slowly, “it’d be bad. Embarrassing. Messy.”

 

Paul grinned. “And that’s just your dad.”

 

Dylan snorted and tried not to laugh, punching Paul playfully in the arm. “But yeah, it’s true.”

 

“We’re going to go in here, ‘kay?” Piper said, walking over to Paul to hand him her smoothie. “Maybe you two should go get Victoria’s gift now.”

 

“Maybe,” Dylan muttered, rocking back and forth on his feet.

 

Piper raised an eyebrow and shoved Dylan gently. “Would you go? If you don’t, she will never shut up.”

 

“What the heck does she even want?” Dylan asked, shoving Piper gently right back. “You’re a girl too, figure it out.”

 

Piper made a small sound and raised an eyebrow, looking up at Dylan. “Uh, no. Victoria and I are not the same type of girl. At all. She probably expects a yacht. I…” she looked at Paul out of the corner of her eye, “would be happy with something much simpler. Something pretty. I would take flowers.”

 

Dylan sighed and rolled his eyes. “Paul, come on. We gotta go get Piper flowers.” He grasped onto Paul’s arm and began leading him away, waving at Piper, looking into the store at Victoria. He smiled and waved, letting go of Paul.

 

“What type of flowers do you think she likes?” Paul asked, glancing back to watch Piper walk into the store. 

 

“I don’t know,” Dylan said, pulling his wallet out of his jeans. “Uh, some girly kind, I’m sure. Or not, ‘cause apparently she’s a whole different kind of girl than Victoria.”

 

“So I should get butchy flowers?” Paul asked. “What the hell kind of flowers are butchy flowers?”

 

Dylan shrugged, thumbing through his money. “Irises,” he replied, shoving his wallet back in his pants. “Paul, I don’t know, okay? I always just get Victoria sunflowers.”

 

“Well, I think that you’ll have to get her more than that this time,” Paul remarked. “Her twenty-second birthday. You two have been dating for…more than two years. This is big.”

 

Dylan’s eyes widened as they turned the corner and the jewelery store was almost right in front of them. “Like, jewelery kind of big?” he asked, looking over at Paul.

 

Paul sighed and walked over to the store, glancing into the display cases. “Yeah, too bad you can’t afford any of this.”

 

“It can’t all be expensive,” Dylan said, following after Paul. “See, look at these ones. They’re cheaper. Two hundred, two hundred, eighty, one-fifty, two-thirty…I can afford one of these.” He looked over at Paul, who was thinking.

 

“Well, I say we go get Piper’s flowers,” Paul said, reaching out for Dylan’s arm, “then we come back and figure this out. Plus, I need a new smoothie.” He threw out the empty cup and wrapped his arm around Dylan’s shoulders, leading him away from the store.

 

* * * *

 

“Do you know what ring size she has?” the saleswoman asked, pulling the ring out of the display case.

 

Dylan shook his head slowly, glancing over to Paul. “No. She has long…thin fingers.”

 

“She’s sort of thin all over,” Paul said, leaning over to the saleswoman. 

 

“The standard size for this ring is six and three-quarters,” the saleswoman continued, carefully holding the ring up to Dylan. “Do you think that that would fit?”

 

Dylan gingerly took the ring, trying to slip it onto his pinkie. “Uh, ye-- yeah. Yeah, I think so.” He held his hand up, examining the ring. “Um, can I ask you something?” he asked, taking the ring off, handing it back to the woman.

 

“Of course,” she nodded, putting the ring back in its box.

 

“Would you like a ring like this?” Dylan asked. “Is it pretty?”

 

“I do think that it’s pretty,” the saleswoman said, smiling at Dylan. “And I think that it’s a nice ring. Hopefully your girlfriend will too.”

 

Dylan swallowed hard and looked over at Paul, who just shrugged. “She does have sort of picky tastes, but…how could she not like it, right? This and her favourite flowers, that would work.” 

 

“Dude, I don’t know,” Paul said, raising his hands. “She is your girlfriend, not mine. Can you see her wearing that thing?”

 

Dylan nodded. “I think I’ll take it. Please and thank you. In the-- the standard size.” He let out a deep breath when the saleswoman grinned, getting a new box for it. “She’ll like it,” he said, turning around to look at Paul. 

 

“Yeah,” Paul nodded. “She will. It’s nice. And not cheap, which she’ll have to like.”

 

Dylan rolled his eyes. “She doesn’t only like expensive things, Paul. She knows I’m not rich, that my parents aren’t. She knows I’m at Columbia on a freaking scholarship.” He sighed, walking over to the saleswoman, who had moved to the cash register. 

 

“Whatever, Dylan,” Paul muttered, taking a drink of his new smoothie. “Let’s just hope she likes it, or you’re out…” he raised an eyebrow, “almost two hundred and fifty bucks.”

 

Dylan cleared his throat gently and let out a shaky breath, nodding. “Yeah, I hope so too.”

 

* * * *

 

Dylan kept his hand in his pocket as he slipped into the chair beside Victoria, giving her a smile and a quick kiss.

 

“I got these for you,” Paul said, thrusting the flowers into Piper’s face, looking down at her.

 

“Oh,” Piper said, jumping back slightly. She smiled and reached up slowly, taking the bouquet from him. “Thank you,” she said quietly, sniffing them.

 

Paul grinned and sat down beside her, looking around the food court. “Did you guys eat already?” he asked, looking at Piper.

 

“We were waiting for you,” Victoria replied, giving Paul a quick smile. “Do you guys want us to get the food, or…”

 

“Somebody should probably stay to save the table,” Paul nodded. “I got no problem doing it.”

 

“I’ll get your food,” Dylan said to Paul, standing back up. “I think that I can figure out what you want.” He helped Victoria up and instantly patted his pocket as they began walking away from the table.

 

“I’m going to get some McDonald’s,” Piper said, “what about you guys?”

 

“Paul loves McDonald’s,” Dylan said, moving over to Piper, smiling at Victoria. “Don’t go too far, ‘kay?” he teased, following Piper over to the small McDonald’s, falling in line behind her.

 

“Tell me that you got her something,” Piper said, once Victoria had walked away to one of the Asian restaurants in the food court. “Please.”

 

“Don’t worry,” Dylan nodded, “I did. Everything’s taken care of.”

 

“Is she at least going to like it?” Piper asked. “‘Cause if she doesn’t like it, I’m the one who’s going to have to hear about it.”

 

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Dylan muttered. “I just…if she likes it, she likes it. If she doesn’t, whatever.”

 

“Sorry,” Piper said, moving up in line. “Are you going to tell me what it is?”

 

“So that you can tell me she won’t like it?” Dylan asked. “No, I’m not.” He sighed and looked up at the menu, trying to decide what to order. 

 

Piper frowned and crossed her arms, looking straight ahead. “Well, I’m sure that she will,” she muttered.

 

* * * *

 

“Dude, I will fly out to see you,” Paul grinned, pulling Dylan in for a hug. “I don’t think that you could handle Connecticut, but I am definitely ready to go to LA.”

 

“Paul, I don’t live in LA,” Dylan reminded him, patting Paul’s back. “It’s Fullerton. And yeah, my parents would love to have you.”

 

“Just let me know when Victoria leaves,” Paul nodded, reaching down to pick up one of his bags. “I’ll be there the next week.”

 

Dylan grinned, giving Paul another quick hug. “Good, I look forward to it. You just be good, okay?”

 

Paul snorted and rolled his eyes. “Dude, I’m worried about you. Somehow, I see myself coming back to you with that diamond ring embedded in your cheek, or something. You just…be the man, okay?”

 

Dylan smiled and sighed, nodding slowly. “Of course. I uh, I plan on it.”

 

Paul looked around the room and leaned in closely to Dylan. “Are you also planning on dumping her anytime soon?” he murmured.

 

“Uh,” Dylan pulled back, looking at Paul, “no? I mean, I’m not planning on it, but that doesn’t really mean that it won’t happen. Why are you…asking me?”

 

Paul just shrugged, running his fingers over his head. “Uh, nothing. I was just wondering. Give me a call, okay? After you give her her present. If she hates it, smack her. That thing is awesome.” He looked up when there was a knock on the door. “Oh, hey Dad,” he said, giving his father a wave.

 

“Need help with your bag?” Paul’s father asked, walking into the room. “Dylan,” he said, nodding as he picked up Paul’s bag. 

 

“Hi, Mr Wellingworth,” Dylan said, giving him a wave. 

 

“When are you leaving?” Mr Wellingworth asked, looking around the dorm room.

 

“Couple of days, sir,” Dylan nodded. “My girlfriend and I are going out for her birthday tomorrow night and then we’re flying out to California.”

 

“Is she staying for the whole summer?” Mr Wellingworth asked, raising an eyebrow at Paul. “Paul, what the hell is that stain on your shirt?”

 

Paul looked down, scratching at it absentmindedly. “Uh, I don’t know, Dad. Whatever.”

 

“Uh, no, she’s not,” Dylan replied, trying not to laugh at Paul. “She’s only staying for a couple of weeks.”

 

“Well then, I hope the two of you have fun,” Mr Wellingworth nodded, reaching out to clasp onto Paul’s shoulder. “Alright Paul, your mother is waiting.”

 

“She’s not waiting, she’s shopping with Rebeka,” Paul said, shaking his head. “I’ll talk to you later, Dyl. Have fun tomorrow night, ‘kay?”

 

“You know that your mother and your sister are big shoppers, Paul,” Mr Wellingworth grinned, slowly leading Paul out of the dorm room. “It ain’t my fault, and it ain’t yours.”

 

“See ya, Dylan!” Paul called behind him, waving his hand.

 

Dylan laughed and waved, shaking his head. “Bye Paul,” he said, walking after him, closing the bedroom door. He turned around and swallowed hard, looking at his almost empty dorm room. “Jesus,” he muttered, walking over to his mattress. He dropped down and let out a deep breath, reaching up onto his desk, grabbing the ring box. He popped it open, studying the small diamond, frowning slightly. He jumped slightly when his phone began to ring and he pulled it out of his pocket, smiling at the number. “Hello?” he asked, closing the box.

 

“And when exactly is my baby boy coming home?” Sam asked, grinning.

 

“Day after tomorrow, Mom,” Dylan replied. “I told you that.”

 

“Oh, I know,” Sam said, “I just miss ya. Your summer home is what I look forward to every year.”

 

“And that is why I make fun of you,” Dean said, not even looking up from the newspaper, “every year.”

 

Dylan grinned and tried not to laugh at Sam. “Well, you do realize that you have Victoria to contend with for my time this year, right? And Paul wants to come by after she’s gone too.”

 

“Whatever,” Sam said, shaking his head. “My little boy’s coming home and that’s enough. But you’re not sleeping with her under my roof.”

 

“Why not?” Dean asked, lifting his head.

 

“Yeah, why not?” Dylan asked.

 

“The kid already slept with Stacy under our roof,” Dean pointed out.

 

“And Danny,” Dylan continued. “And I was with Danny when you two were actually in the house.”

 

“What’d he say?” Dean asked, leaning across the table. “While we were in the house?”

 

“Don’t really wanna hear this,” Sam said, sitting back in his seat to get away from Dean. “But I…just…” he sighed, “fine, whatever. Do whatever you want. Does she-- what does she know about us?”

 

Dylan dropped his eyes, picking at his jeans. “Nothing, really. She uh, she thinks that you-- that you adopted me. She doesn’t know that you hunt. That you’re brothers. She doesn’t know any of it.”

 

Sam sighed, nodding slowly. “And you plan on keeping it that way?”

 

“She’s not Danny, Mom,” Dylan said. “She wouldn’t understand. She’s…all brains, no imagination. She’d dump me in a second, she would never get it. It was hard enough to explain to her about Danny. To get her to stay with me after that.”

 

“If you had to convince her to stay,” Sam began, “then maybe she’s not the person you should be with.”

 

Dylan swallowed, running his fingers through his air. “Yeah well, then I guess person I should be with and the person I am with are two different people. But I like her a lot, Mom.”

 

“He should be with Danny,” Dean murmured, flipping the page.

 

Sam bit his lip, trying not to say anything back to Dean. “Well, you just-- you call when your flight gets in on Friday. Me and your dad are gonna pick you up. Don’t even think about taking a cab.”

 

“I won’t,” Dylan nodded, smiling weakly. “I can’t wait to see you guys.”

 

Sam grinned, nodding. “Okay. I’ll let you go then. I love you.”

 

“I love you too Mom,” Dylan said, “and Dad. I’ll talk to you later.” He blew a kiss and turned off his phone, dropping it down on the mattress beside him. 

 

“I think that we should agree not to mention Danny while Victoria’s here,” Sam suggested, cocking his head to the side.

 

Dean sighed, shrugging. “Fine, whatever. I won’t bring him up. But if she does--”

 

“Why would she, Dean?” Sam asked. “I just don’t want her first impression of us to be that we don’t like her and that we still wish he was with Danny.”

 

Dean raised an eyebrow. “We don’t like her and we do still wish that he was with Danny. I’d be surprised if she didn’t get that impression.”

 

Sam sighed and glared at Dean a little. “It’s not her fault, though. It might be ours.”

 

“Nope,” Dean said quickly. “If that little New Hampshire princess thinks that she’s just going to waltz into our lives, into our house and expect us to somehow like her like Dylan likes her, she needs a wake-up call.”

 

“Okay Dean,” Sam said, “you do realize that we haven’t met her yet?”

 

“Paul does not like Victoria,” Dean said, “and I like Paul. Therefore,” he waved his hands, “I do not like Victoria.”

 

“Dylan said that Paul wants to come by this summer,” Sam said. “Once Victoria is gone. Is that good for you?”

 

Dean perked right up and nodded eagerly. “Love that kid. He’s like me. But young. And black.” He pushed his chair back from the table, standing up. 

 

“You can’t say that,” Sam said, looking up at Dean.

 

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Dean agreed, nodding as he walked over to the refrigerator. “What do they prefer these days? Less mature?”

 

Sam frowned before he began to laugh loudly, shaking his head in disbelief.

 

* * * *

 

“My parents are excited to see you tomorrow,” Dylan lied, opening the car door for Victoria.

 

Victoria smiled, picking up the hem of her skirt, climbing out of the car. “I can’t wait to meet them either.” She bumped the door closed with her hip, leaning up to give Dylan a kiss. “Finally get to see the Winchester home. Where you grew up. I’m excited.”

 

“It’s nothing much, really,” Dylan said, looking at the ground as he took Victoria’s hand, leading her up to the door of the restaurant. “My house, I mean. I’m sure it barely compares to where you grew up.”

 

“But it’s where you were raised,” Victoria pointed out, smiling when Dylan opened the door for her. “That makes it important. That makes it compare.”

 

Dylan smiled and nodded, looking around for a waiter. “I hate going to places where we can’t seat ourselves,” he murmured, sighing in relief when a waiter walked over to them.

 

“Two?” he asked, grabbing a couple of menus.

 

Victoria nodded and smiled back at Dylan, leading him over to the table the waiter chose. “Thank you,” she said, sitting down.

 

“Anything to drink just to start you off?” the waiter asked, handing Dylan and Victoria their menus.

 

“Uh…” Dylan quickly glanced at the menu, looking over to Victoria. “I will just…have a lemonade, thank you.”

 

“I think that I’ll have an iced tea,” Victoria said, smiling at the waiter. “Please and thank you.”

 

Dylan sighed and picked at his napkin, nodding slowly to himself.

 

“Are you okay?” Victoria asked, reaching out to grasp onto Dylan’s hand. “You don’t seem like yourself.”

 

“I’m fine,” Dylan assured her. “I’m just…nervous. About you meeting my parents, is all. And flying. I don’t like flying much.”

 

“Well, you won’t have to fly alone this time,” Victoria smiled, brushing her hair away from her face.

 

“Yeah,” Dylan breathed, looking around the restaurant. “So, how long are you staying again?” he asked.

 

“Why?” Victoria asked, sitting back in her chair. “Trying to get rid of me already?” she teased. “I’m not even there yet.”

 

“I’m not trying to get rid of you,” Dylan assured her. “I was just wondering.” He swallowed and slipped his hand into his pocket, fingers curling around the box. “I’m not sure if I should give this to you now, or after we eat.”

 

“Ooh, my present?” Victoria asked, clapping her hands gently. “Well now that I know you have it, you have to give it to me now.” She grinned over at Dylan.

 

“That’s what I figured,” Dylan said quietly, pulling the box out of his pocket. He held his breath reached out, opening the box as he handed it to her.

 

“Oh my god,” Victoria said quietly, eyes going wide. “Dylan, it’s gorgeous.”

 

Dylan let out his breath, smiling in relief. “I’m glad you think so,” he said, watching Victoria pull the ring out of the box.

 

Victoria’s mouth opened a little as she examined the ring, smiling as she slipped it her middle finger. “It’s so…beautiful.” She raised her hand, eyes starting to fill with tears. “Thank you.”

 

Dylan kept smiled and nodded. “You’re welcome. I’m just really happy that you like it.”

 

Victoria grinned, pushing her chair back from the table. “Of course I do.” She cupped his cheeks gently and pulled him in for a kiss, before throwing her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a hug. “Just no wonder you were so nervous.”

 

Dylan nodded, pulling back to give her a kiss. “I love you,” he whispered.

 

“I love you too,” she whispered back, kissing Dylan again. Victoria pulled back and moved back to her seat, sitting down. “I just love it. It’s so pretty.”

 

“It suits you,” Dylan said quietly.

 

“Aww,” Victoria said, twisting the ring around her finger, “thank you. Thank you. It’s already one of my best birthdays ever.”

 

Dylan tried not to frown and rubbed his stomach, where a strange feeling was growing. “Can you…excuse me for a second? I’ve really gotta run to the washroom.”

 

“Of course,” Victoria nodded, giving him a smile.

 

Dylan nodded jerkily and hopped out of his chair, trying not to run full speed into the bathroom. Once he was in, he dug out his cell phone, quickly dialling Paul’s number. “Paul!” he said once the phone stopped ringing.

 

“Hey Dylan, what’s going on?” Paul asked. “Give her the ring?”

 

“Yeah, she loves it,” Dylan replied. “But I still feel wrong.”

 

“Wrong?” Paul repeated. “Okay, you gave your girlfriend a gorgeous diamond ring and she loves it. Only you could manage to find something wrong with that.”

 

“I don’t know what it is,” Dylan admitted, shaking his head. “I…am I supposed to propose?” he asked quietly.

 

“Holy shit,” Paul said slowly, sitting up. “You feel wrong because you didn’t propose? Dylan, what the hell are you on?”

 

“She took out the ring and put it on her middle finger,” Dylan said. “I feel like it’s on the wrong finger.”

 

“Do you feel like you wanna marry that woman?” Paul asked. “‘Cause that’s the big clue. Not whether it’s on the wrong finger or not.”

 

Dylan shook his head. “I don’t know what I’m thinking. But I mean…engagements can go on for a long time, right? There’s nothing that says we have to get married now.”

 

“Actually, there’s nothing that says you have to get engaged now either,” Paul pointed out. “If she’s happy with the ring on her middle finger, who are you to say any different?”

 

“I love her,” Dylan said softly. “I just don’t want her to leave me. I think she’d be happy.”

 

Paul groaned and rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “You’re an idiot if you go through with this, Dylan.”

 

“I have to go,” Dylan said, quickly turning off his phone before Paul could say anymore. He swallowed hard and slipped his phone into his pocket, pacing for a couple more moments before opening the door, walking back out into the restaurant.

 

“Are you okay?” Victoria asked, taking a sip of her iced tea.

 

Dylan nodded and sat back down across from her, eyes going straight to her left hand. “You know…I actually have something to ask you,” he said, looking up at Victoria.

 

Victoria smiled. “Oh, sorry. Okay. What’s going on?”

 

“Can I see your hand for a second?” Dylan asked, voice rough, reaching out.

 

Victoria frowned but nodded anyway, reaching her hand out to Dylan’s. She watched him pull the ring off her middle finger and she opened her mouth to speak before he slipped it back onto her ring finger. “Uh…Dylan?” she asked.

 

Dylan nodded, clearing his throat gently. “Victoria,” he began, looking up to meet her eyes, “will you marry me?”

 

Victoria let out a deep shaky breath and her eyes went wide again, looking at Dylan. “Yes,” she said finally, slowly bringing her hand back. “Of course I will.”

 

“Great,” Dylan said quietly, but for some reason, the feeling in the pit of his stomach wasn’t going away.

 

* * * *

 

Sam pulled Dylan in tightly, wrapping his arms around him. “God, I missed you,” he muttered, kissing Dylan’s cheek. “How are you?”

 

“I’m good, Mom,” Dylan replied, squeezing his eyes shut. “You know I am. I call.”

 

Dean cleared his throat and shifted awkwardly, looking over at Victoria. “I’m…Dean Winchester,” he said finally, extending his hand. “Dylan’s father.”

 

“Victoria Haynsworth,” Victoria said, shaking Dean’s hand heartily. “Dylan’s fiancé.”

 

“What?” Sam asked, practically shoving Dylan off of him. “Uh, I mean…fiancé? Really? You proposed?” he asked, looking back to Dylan.

 

“I’ll talk to you about it later,” Dylan said softly, meeting Sam’s eyes. “Please?”

 

“Well then, Victoria,” Dean said, his hand dropping from Victoria’s, “it really is a pleasure to finally meet you.” He looked over at Dylan, walking over to pull him into a hug. “What the hell did you do?” he muttered, kissing Dylan’s cheek.

 

“I’m Sam,” Sam said, shaking Victoria’s hand. “I guess that you’re going to be part of the family, huh?”

 

Victoria grinned and nodded. “Believe me, I’m just as excited as you are.”

 

Sam swallowed, trying hard to keep smiling. “Somehow, I doubt that,” he said quietly. “Um, did you two get your bags alright?”

 

“I got mine,” Victoria replied, “I only have one for this trip.”

 

“I can’t get all of mine,” Dylan said, pulling back slowly from Dean. “Dad, you wanna help?” he asked, meeting Dean’s eyes.

 

“Sure,” Dean nodded, glancing back at Sam before walking after Dylan.

 

“So,” Sam began, rocking back and forth on his feet, unsure of what to say, “let’s see that ring.”

 

“Oh,” Victoria said, lifting her hand. “Isn’t it gorgeous? He gave it to me last night, I thought that it was just a birthday present. But then he asked me to marry him.”

 

“Great,” Sam muttered, studying the ring.

 

“Fiancé, huh?” Dean said, gripping onto Dylan’s arm. “What the hell’s up with that?”

 

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Dylan muttered.

 

“Too fucking bad,” Dean snapped. “You proposed to her? Why? I mean, my god, Dylan. You’re too young.”

 

“That’s what you said when Danny gave me his ring,” Dylan pointed out, grabbing onto one of his bags. 

 

“And you were even younger than,” Dean remarked. “Christ, Dylan, you’re twenty years old and you’ve been engaged twice. Do you love her?”

 

“You want to know if I love her as much as Danny,” Dylan snapped. “And no, I don’t. Of course I don’t, how could I? But that doesn’t mean that I don’t love her at all.”

 

“We, and by we, I mean all of us except for Victoria,” Dean said, grabbing onto one of Dylan’s bags, “are going to sit down and talk about this. I want to hear it all. So I can decide what your punishment is going to be.”

 

Dylan nodded dumbly and picked up his bags, looking up at Dean. “It’s kind of hard to explain what happened.” They began walking back over to Sam and Victoria, Dylan giving them both a quick smile. “You ready to go?” he asked Victoria, giving her a quick kiss.

 

“Of course,” Victoria smiled, wrapping her arm around Dylan’s waist. “I can’t wait to see where you grew up.”

 

Dylan nodded and cleared his throat, looking over to his parents. “So, where’d you guys park?” he asked, straightening up.

 

* * * *

 

Victoria smiled and looked around Dylan’s bedroom, sitting down on his bed. “This place is so adorable, Dylan,” she said, watching him unpack his things.

 

“I’m not that that’s the right word,” Dylan muttered, shoving his dresser drawer closed. 

 

“Your parents are nice,” Victoria continued. “Isn’t it weird that they’re both men though?”

 

“They’re gay,” Dylan pointed out, glancing behind him. “But whatever. I didn’t grow up the way that most people did.”

 

“Does Danny still live across the street?” Victoria asked, straightening up.

 

Dylan swallowed hard, dropping his eyes. “No, he doesn’t. He moved awhile ago. I didn’t tell you that part?”

 

Victoria shrugged, flipping her hair off of her shoulders. “So, what do you do around here?” she asked, dropping her feet down to the floor.

 

Dylan shrugged. “I don’t know. I usually just hang out with my parents.”

 

“They don’t work?” Victoria asked flatly.

 

“No, they both do,” Dylan replied. “My dad owns a music store, and my mom works with…graphic art memorabilia.”

 

Victoria nodded slowly, pushing herself up off the bed. “So what do you do when they’re at work?” she asked, moving to beside Dylan, leaning against his dresser.

 

“I’m not sure,” Dylan replied. “And I don’t have girl friends, so I don’t what they do either.”

 

“You seem like you don’t want me here,” Victoria said quietly. “What’s wrong?”

 

Dylan shook his head. “Just stressed, I guess. Got a wedding to plan.”

 

Victoria laughed softly. “I don’t plan on getting married for a very long time, Dylan. You, for one, still have a year left as an undergraduate. And I have a lot longer than that before I get my medical degree.”

 

Dylan swallowed hard. “Then why did you say yes?” he asked.

 

“Because you asked,” Victoria replied. “Because I do want to marry you, but not now. I’m only twenty-two.”

 

Dylan sighed, putting the rest of his clothes away. “Well, that certainly makes me feel better. Less stress, I mean. And I think that my parents are going to need awhile to-- to accept it, you know?”

 

“I can tell,” Victoria agreed, nodding. “I don’t think that they like me very much.”

 

“They’re just very…” Dylan trailed off, trying to think of the right word, “you know, they don’t like new people. For awhile it was just us three. I think that they like it that way.”

 

“I can understand,” Victoria said. “But I think that they’ll have to get used to me eventually. I will be their daughter-in-law, right?”

 

“Mm-hmm,” Dylan agreed, pushing his drawer closed. “So what do you say that we go try to find something to do? Maybe hit a movie or something?” He walked by Victoria, opening his bedroom door.

 

Victoria nodded, following after Dylan.

 

“Fucking engaged,” Dean snapped, pacing around the bedroom. “Why the hell would he propose to her?”

 

“I don’t know!” Sam exclaimed. “How the hell am I supposed to know?” He glanced back and cleared his throat, shaking his head at Dean. “Hey, what are you two up to?” he asked, walking over to the bedroom door.

 

“Just trying to figure out what to do,” Dylan replied, walking slowly over to Sam. “Any recommendations?”

 

Sam smiled and shook his head, glancing over at Victoria. “No idea. I think that Cillian came home yesterday. You go over there, if you want. Introduce her.”

 

Dylan swallowed hard and looked back at Victoria. “What do you say, Vic? Wanna meet some old friends of mine?”

 

“Sure,” Victoria nodded, stretching her arms above her head. “When we get back though, I think that I need to take a shower. Flying doesn’t agree well with me.”

 

Dean sighed loudly, walking around the bedroom.

 

“Just take the car, Dyl,” Sam said, tossing the keys over to him. “And have fun.”

 

Dylan nodded, looking back at Victoria, reaching out for her hand. “C’mon. We don’t have to be there long.”

 

“Alright,” Victoria said, waving at Sam and Dean. “See you both later.”

 

“Bye,” Sam said, plastering on a smile until they were away from the door and he slammed it shut behind him, smile disappearing. “I don’t like her,” he said, walking over to Dean.

 

“Yeah what, you think that I’m her biggest fan?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow. “She’s a freaking snob. She’s not marrying my kid.”

 

Sam sighed, dropping down onto the mattress. “I just don’t understand why-- how he could propose to her. What does he see in her?”

 

“I think that she’s one person I wouldn’t mind that yellow-eyed son of a bitch getting to,” Dean muttered.

 

“Dean!” Sam exclaimed. “Jesus! We don’t like her, that doesn’t mean she deserves to die.”

 

“Whatever,” Dean said, shaking his head. “I’m not letting him marry her. I know that I said I wouldn’t let him marry Danny, but at least I liked Danny. I can’t wait until she leaves him alone for five minutes and we can talk to him.”

 

Sam sighed and rolled onto his stomach, looking up at Dean. “Maybe he really does love her,” he said quietly, reaching up to grasp onto Dean’s hand. “Maybe he does wanna marry her.”

 

Dean snorted and rolled his eyes. “I don’t see how anybody could.”

 

* * * *

 

Victoria shifted in Dylan’s bed, closely studying her engagement ring. She twisted it around her finger, smiling to herself.

 

Dylan swallowed hard, staring at the wall. “Are you okay?” he asked. “Having trouble sleeping?”

 

Victoria shook her head and moved down in the bed, moving her arms around Dylan’s chest, holding him close. “No, just…looking at my ring.”

 

“Oh yeah,” Dylan said softly, trying not to shrug Victoria off of him. “Well uh, you should probably try and get some sleep. You’ll definitely feel it tomorrow if you don’t.”

 

Victoria smiled, kissing the back of Dylan’s neck. “You trying to get me to shut up?” she joked.

 

Dylan smiled weakly and shook his head. “Never,” he lied. “Just…looking out for you, is all.” He cleared his throat gently and tried to sit up. “I actually gotta go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

 

“Kay,” Victoria nodded, rolling onto her back, stretching out.

 

Dylan sighed and walked out of his bedroom, going up the hallway. “Hey doggie,” he said, kneeling down when King Chuck lifted his head. “What are you doing?” he asked, rubbing the dog’s back. “Mommy and Daddy in bed?” he asked, looking up. 

 

King Chuck whimpered softly and pushed himself up, walking down towards Dylan’s bedroom.

 

“Fine, you go keep her company,” Dylan said, walking over to the master bedroom. He knocked softly on the door and pushed it open, looking in. “Hi,” he said softly, swallowing hard.

 

“Been waiting,” Sam said, looking up from his book. He reached up, taking off his glasses, setting them on the nightstand. “What’s going on?”

 

Dylan shook his head, rubbing his eyes. “I just figured that you guys would wanna talk,” he explained, climbing over Sam to drop down between him and Dean.

 

“Why’d you propose to her, Dylan?” Sam asked, wrapping his arm around Dylan’s shoulder. “Do you really wanna marry her?”

 

Dylan sniffled and shook his head, curling up between his parents. “No,” he admitted.

 

“Then tell us why you did it,” Dean urged, rolling over to face them.

 

Dylan shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know. But I can’t tell her the truth. She’d hate me. I don’t want her to break up with me.”

 

Sam kissed the top of Dylan’s head, holding him close. “Dylan, you can’t do this. You can’t marry somebody because you’re scared of being alone.”

 

Dylan closed his eyes, sniffling. “I gave it to her as a birthday present. But there was something wrong, I felt so sick to my stomach.”

 

“Bad food,” Dean muttered.

 

“I thought that I was supposed to ask her to marry me,” Dylan continued. “I thought the ring was on the wrong finger.” He sighed. “I don’t think it was supposed to be on any finger.”

 

Sam rubbed his eyes, shaking his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe that you would do this Dylan, I really can’t. Jesus, you proposed to this girl and you don’t-- do you even love her? Do you really?”

 

Dylan shook his head once before freezing and nodding. “I don’t know. I love her. I do. Not enough to marry her. Not enough to spend the rest of my life with her.”

 

“And you don’t think that you should tell her that?” Sam asked gently. “I think that it’s kind of important.”

 

Dylan’s breath hitched and tears filled his eyes. “But she loves me. I found somebody who loves me enough to spend the rest of their life with me.”

 

“And you’re scared that you’ll never find somebody like that again?” Dean asked. “Jesus Dylan, you’re twenty. And a Winchester. You’re always going to find people to love you.”

 

“That’s not what it feels like to me,” Dylan admitted. “I think that there’s something wrong with me. There has to be.”

 

“You’re perfect, Dyl,” Sam said quietly, kissing Dylan’s temple. “There’s nothing wrong with you.” He sighed, looking over at Dean, who was watching Dylan. “But I need you to tell her. Please.”

 

Dylan shook his head. “What if she breaks up with me?”

 

“Then she breaks up with you,” Dean snapped. “But I’m not letting you marry her. You don’t even want to. Do you get that? Do you get that you could spend the rest of your life with this girl?”

 

Dylan nodded dumbly. “Yeah,” he said softly.

 

Dean pushed Dylan gently. “Then go tell her. If she breaks up with you, she breaks up with you. But you need to tell her the truth.”

 

“In the morning?” Dylan asked hopefully, lifting his head from the mattress. He sighed and sat up, moving his legs over Sam, dropping his feet to the floor. “Now?”

 

Sam and Dean both nodded, looking up at Dylan. “If you need somebody, we’re here, okay?”

 

Dylan nodded and slowly turned around, walking out of the bedroom. He wrapped his arms around himself and walked down the hallway, trying not to cry as he walked into his room.

 

Victoria yawned softly, stretching under the covers. “What’s your dog’s name again?” she asked.

 

“King Chuck,” Dylan replied, sitting on the edge of the mattress. “He’s my dad’s.”

 

Victoria smiled and pet the dog gently. “What’s going on?” she asked, realizing that something was off with Dylan. 

 

Dylan wiped at his eyes and shook his head. “Nothing,” he said, bringing his feet up onto the bed. “Can I see your hand?” he asked.

 

Victoria nodded and reached her left hand out to Dylan, watching him slip the ring off of her finger. 

 

“I’m not ready to marry you,” Dylan said, pushing the ring down onto her middle finger. “Is that okay?” he asked quietly, eyes shining with tears.

 

Victoria pushed herself up and looked down at her hand, before wrapping her arms around Dylan’s neck, pulling him in. “Of course it is,” she assured him, kissing his neck. “I wish you had told me.”

 

“I thought that,” Dylan sniffled, resting his head on Victoria’s shoulder, “that you wanted me to ask you. That you expected it.”

 

“I don’t expect anything, Dylan,” Victoria said, pulling back. “I don’t. You think I was expecting a diamond ring for my birthday?”

 

Dylan shrugged and dropped his eyes. “Your family--”

 

“My parents are rich, Dylan,” Victoria said, cupping Dylan’s cheek, “but I’m not. I don’t get diamonds every birthday or something.”

 

Dylan laughed softly, nodding. “I guess not.”

 

“Yeah,” Victoria nodded. “I guess not. Are you okay now?” she asked.

 

Dylan nodded. “Are you gonna leave me?” he asked.

 

Victoria shook her slowly and moved her legs over Dylan’s, pulling him in for a kiss. She moaned softly into his mouth, running her fingers down Dylan’s back. “What do you think?” she asked, pulling back to pull her top over her head.

 

Dylan swallowed hard and kissed her again, entangling his fingers in her long hair. “My parents told me I’m not allowed to sleep with you in the house,” he muttered, kissing her neck.

 

Victoria smiled, falling back onto his bed. “I guess we’ll just have to really quiet then,” she whispered, before she began giggling loudly.

 

* * * *

 

Sam sat the plate down in front of Dean, reaching out for his glass.

 

“Mm, looks delicious, Sammy,” Dean said, leaning up to give Sam a quick kiss.

 

Sam grabbed his own plate and slid into his seat beside Dean, giving him another kiss. “I hope it is.” He took a quick drink, looking up when he heard footsteps down the hallway.

 

“What’s for breakfast?” Victoria asked, staying close behind Dylan.

 

“Uh well, I hope that you eat French toast,” Sam said, pushing his chair back.

 

“With syrup?” Victoria asked hopefully.

 

“I’ll get it Mom,” Dylan said, patting Sam’s shoulder. “And of course with syrup. What kind of people do you think we are?”

 

Sam and Dean both looked at Victoria, trying to get a glance at her left hand.

 

Dylan stopped walking and leaned down between his parents. “Trust me, the ring’s on the right finger this time,” he assured them, giving them each a quick kiss on the cheek.

 

Sam swallowed and Dean poked futilely at his toast. “I still think that the right finger would be no finger at all,” Dean muttered, reaching out for his drink.


	38. Chapter 37

Title: Look What Love Has Done - Volume 3 - Chapter 37

Pairing: Sam/Dean

Disclaimer: Not mine

Rating: NC-17 this chapter

Summary: Sam and Dean live life while waiting for Dylan to come home from New Hampshire.

Author's Note: Forget volume one, forget volume two; this is volume three 

 

twenty-one years, three months and fifteen days old 

 

“Oh, god,” Dean groaned loudly, slipping into Sam. He closed his eyes and his head went back, breathing heavily as he slowly pushed in. “Unh,” he moaned, Adam’s apple bobbing. His fingers curled into the bed sheet on either side of Sam, the comforter dragging on his back as he began gently rocking back and forth.

 

Sam moaned loudly and his fingers wrapped around the comforter, trying to lift his knees up a little further, spreading his legs as much as he could. His trembling hand moved to the back of Dean’s neck, holding him close, their mouths only inches away from each other. “Look at me,” he breathed, working his back in a slow grind.

 

Dean’s eyes fluttered open and his pupils were blown, looking down at Sam. “God, you’re gorgeous,” he breathed, shifting to thrust a little bit harder. He leaned down, nipping at Sam’s blushing cheek, moving his mouth down to Sam’s ear. “You know that, don’t you?”

 

“Genetics,” Sam explained, keeping one hand on Dean’s neck as the other moved down Dean’s back to the swell of his ass, trying not to knead the skin and muscle. “It’s all genetics.”

 

Dean moved his mouth to Sam’s, pushing his tongue in fast, moving his hand to Sam’s thigh, trying to push it up further.

 

Sam groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. “Dean, I’m not that young anymore,” he said, toes curling, “you wanna put my leg down?”

 

Dean let go of Sam’s leg and it instantly moved down, knees pressing against Dean’s sides. “You wanna stop squeezing the breath out of me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow pointedly. 

 

Sam rolled his eyes and spread his legs, trying to hold them away from Dean. “Is it just me, or has sex gotten a lot more awkward as the years go on?”

 

“You wanna get on your knees?” Dean asked, stopping his thrusting, breathing heavily.

 

Sam groaned loudly and sighed, nodding as he pushed at Dean’s chest. “We’re getting too fucking old for this,” he muttered, rolling onto his stomach once Dean pulled out.

 

“I am not giving up sex,” Dean said, jerking his dick a couple of times, pushing back in once Sam was up on his hands and knees. “Okay?”

 

“Maybe we should start sleeping with younger people,” Sam suggested, flipping his hair off of his forehead.

 

Dean lightly smacked Sam’s ass, leaning forward to bite at the back of Sam’s neck.

 

“Ow!” Sam cried out, putting all his weight on one hand when he rubbed at his skin. “Um, that hurt!”

 

“So did the sleeping with younger people comment,” Dean said, moving his mouth over Sam’s skin, kissing and nipping. “You are my younger people.”

 

“God, that’s sad,” Sam muttered, moving his hand back down to the bed. He rocked back and forth with Dean, closing his eyes. “So, who are you picturing?” he asked, letting out a deep breath.

 

Dean rolled his eyes. “Nobody. Or that girl at the theatre. You?”

 

Sam sighed, wetting his lips. “Unh, Javier Bardem.”

 

“Who?” Dean asked, finally reaching down to wrap his fingers around Sam, jerking him off.

 

“That-- that actor,” Sam said, breath hitching, moving his hips quicker. “Spanish. Before Night Falls.”

 

“Christ Sam,” Dean said, “c’mon. That guy looks like Dad.”

 

Sam shoulders slumped and his hips stopped moving. “Great Dean, thanks for that image. Now I’m picturing Dad! Get off of me.”

 

“Hold on a sec,” Dean muttered, thrusting in harder, fingers digging into Sam’s hips. He threw his head back and swallowed hard, breath stopping as he came, hips twitching into Sam. He sighed and wet his lips, slowly pulling out. He was breathing heavily as he dropped down onto the mattress, looking up at Sam. “Sorry,” he apologized softly. “I uh, it’s my fault. I’m too old for you now.”

 

Sam sighed and smiled, shaking his head as he lied down beside Dean, resting his head on Dean’s chest. “No, you’re not. I’m just…not what I used to be.”

 

“I guess that neither of us are,” Dean admitted, wrapping his arm around Sam’s shoulders. “I thought that we’d be doing it until we were like, eighty.”

 

“I figured we’d at least make it to our fifties,” Sam murmured, turning his head to press a kiss to Dean’s chest, letting out a cool breath. “This is kind of disappointing.”

 

“Well, if you stopped picturing people that looked like Dad,” Dean began.

 

“Well, maybe you should stop picturing people that probably aren’t even legal,” Sam said, lifting his head. He frowned, swallowing as he dropped his head back down. “Maybe the big problem is that we’re not picturing each other anymore.”

 

“Do you still love me?” Dean asked, running his fingers through Sam’s hair. “Do you still find me hot?”

 

“You know I do,” Sam whispered. “Are you still attracted to me?” he asked quietly.

 

Dean nodded, kissing the top of Sam’s head. “After more than twenty years, I’m not stopping now. No matter what.” He sighed and reached up, flicking off the lamp, grabbing onto the television remote. “You wanna watch something or you wanna sleep?”

 

Sam shrugged. “You can turn it on. I think I’m just gonna rest my eyes.”

 

“Okay,” Dean nodded, turning the television on, turning the volume down just a bit. “G’night, Sammy.”

 

“Goodnight,” Sam said quietly, pulling at the bed sheets, throwing his arm over Dean’s chest, snuggling in closely.

 

* * * *

 

“And up next,” Michael said, waving his hands, “it’s Lorelai!” he exclaimed, looking down the hall.

 

Sam and Dean clapped and cheered as Lorelai walked down the hallway in her pointe shoes and grey tights over her long-sleeved green leotard. “Completely pretty,” Sam said, grinning at her. 

 

“You gonna show us some moves?” Dean asked, crossing his arms.

 

“Albany!” Michael yelled, sticking his head down the hallway. “Come watch your sister!”

 

Albany flipped his hair out of his eyes, sticking his head out of his bedroom. “Dad, I’ve already seen it. Like, a million times.”

 

“Then make it a million and one and get up here please,” Michael said. “Her recital’s in a couple of days.”

 

Albany rolled his eyes and groaned, tossing his book down onto the floor, pushing himself up. “It’s so retarded.”

 

“Hey!” Dean said, shaking his head. “Be nice to her.”

 

“It’s not even a real sport,” Albany snapped, glaring at his sister as he walked into the living room. “Ballet is so gay.”

 

Dean raised an eyebrow. “You do realize that you’re in the company of two men who sleep with each other, right?” he asked.

 

Albany rolled his eyes again and dropped down on the couch beside Sam, shaking his head. “She’s not going to get anywhere doing ballet. But I’m sure she’ll make a great cheerleader in high school. Rah rah,” he cheered flatly, clapping his hands.

 

“So young to be jaded,” Sam said, looking over at Albany. 

 

“I’m not jaded,” Albany muttered. “And if I was, I think that I’ve got more than one damn good reason to be that way.” He crossed his arms, staring at Lorelai. “Well, are you gonna to start yet or what?”

 

“Dad,” Lorelai whined, looking up at Michael, “make him shut up.”

 

“I will do no such thing,” Michael said. “But Al, if you could be quiet, that would be nice.”

 

Albany snorted, slouching even further down. “I’m sure it would be.”

 

Dean leaned forward in his seat, glaring at Albany. “You ever heard of military school?” he asked.

 

Sam moved his hand to Dean’s thigh, squeezing it gently. “Dean,” he said softly, looking over at him, “let’s just stay quiet here, okay?”

 

“Whatever,” Dean muttered, looking back at Lorelai. “Okay Samantha, let’s see what you got. Uh, is there enough room in here?”

 

Lorelai looked around and nodded, supporting her weight with one leg as she brought the other one back, completely straight. 

 

Dean cocked his head to the side, studying her. “Okay then, I can’t do that.”

 

“It’s called arabesque,” Lorelai said, bringing her leg back down. She brought her arms up as she began pushing herself up on her feet until she was on her toes.

 

“Ouch,” Sam said softly, staring at Lorelai’s feet. “Uh, uh, pointe, right?”

 

Lorelai grinned and nodded, dropping back down onto the soles of her feet. She cleared her throat and looked down at the wood floor and kept her arms up, straightening up. “Fouetté rond de jambe en tournant,” she said, before she began spinning on the spot.

 

“I don’t what seems harder,” Dean murmured, leaning over to Sam, “the moves or the French.”

 

“Oh, the moves,” Sam said, nodding, back to watching Lorelai’s feet, “definitely.” 

 

Lorelai stopped spinning and smiled at Sam and Dean. “Dad, do you think that you moved the coffee table enough?” she asked, looking over at Michael.

 

“Uh, for the-- the jeté?” Michael asked, looking around the living room. “Yeah, I think you’re okay, baby girl.”

 

“Okay,” Lorelai said, looking back to the couch. “This is called a grand jeté,” she announced. 

 

“Isn’t that a jump?” Sam asked, glancing over at Albany.

 

“Yep,” Albany replied, nodding once.

 

Lorelai took only one step before jumping into the air, arms up and legs extended, landing perfectly. She smiled and turned, curtsying.

 

“Wonderful,” Sam said, clapping. “Don’t you think, Dean?” he asked.

 

Dean smiled. “Yeah, it’s great. Uh, you’re great,” he said to Lorelai.

 

“Thank you,” Lorelai said quietly, dropping her eyes.

 

“Okay, what’s your big finale?” Michael asked, sitting up in his chair.

 

“Oh,” Lorelai said, “I thought that that was it.”

 

“Do the toe thing again,” Dean said, leaning forward. “Come over here so I can see it.”

 

Lorelai smiled and walked over to stand in front of Dean, quickly springing up onto her toes with a small hop.

 

Dean looked down, shaking his head in disbelief. “That is pretty wild, Samantha,” he said, looking back when she dropped onto flat feet. “Awesome.”

 

“Thank you,” Lorelai said, looking over to Albany expectantly.

 

Albany sighed and pushed himself up, ruffling her hair as he walked by. “Yeah yeah, you know you’re amazing. Can I go back to my room now, Dad?” he asked, even though he was already well on his way down the hall.

 

Sam smiled and clapped again. “You are quite the ballerina, Lorelai,” he said. “Thank you for showing us that.”

 

“No problem,” Lorelai said, turning away, walking back down to her room to change.

 

“Only athlete in the family,” Michael said, rubbing at his eyes. 

 

“Doesn’t ballet hurt the feet?” Sam asked, leaning forward. “Blisters and stuff?”

 

Michael sighed and nodded. “Blisters, corns, bunions, ingrown toenails. She’s tough though, sucks it up when she has to. And she wants to go through it.”

 

“Yeah I mean, come on, Sam,” Dean said, looking at his brother. “We let Dylan play football. And there are a lot worse injuries there than ingrown toenails.”

 

“Dylan also wore a lot more gear,” Sam pointed out, looking at Dean. “But yeah, I mean, I’m not judging. But going up on her toes like that…it must kill.”

 

“She’s learned more French than I’ll ever know,” Michael smiled. 

 

“So where’s Cillian?” Dean asked, looking around the house. “He came home, right?”

 

Michael yawned softly and nodded. “Oh yeah, he’s been home. He’s just out right now with some friends. Albany gets a little more cranky each day that he doesn’t get to hang out with him.”

 

“Something that we never had to worry about,” Dean said. “Wonders of a single-child family.”

 

“Must be hard,” Sam said quietly. 

 

“He’ll make it okay,” Michael said. “He’ll-- Albany’s…he just always took everything a lot harder than Cill and Lori.”

 

“Cillian had already accepted the fact that Paula didn’t like him,” Dean said softly, “and Lorelai was too young to know the difference. Alby was stuck in the middle.”

 

“Yeah,” Michael breathed, looking up when Lorelai came out in her street clothes, dog leash in hand. “You taking Saxon for a walk?” he asked, clearing his throat gently.

 

Lorelai nodded and pulled her hair out of the bun, pushing it behind her ears. “Yeah, I’ll be back soon.”

 

Sam looked away from her and wiped at his eyes, trying not to sniffle. 

 

“See you guys later,” Lorelai said, walking outside to get the dog.

 

Sam swallowed hard and his head dropped forward, feeling Dean’s hand on his back. “Sorry,” he said, letting out a deep breath. “Sorry.”

 

“It’s okay,” Dean said quietly, leaning over to kiss Sam’s cheek. “Mike’s doing a great job, right?” he asked, glancing over at Michael.

 

Sam nodded quickly. “Yeah, sorry, I just…” he squeezed the bridge of his nose, “sorry.” He swallowed and sniffled, sitting back in his seat. “Uh…”

 

“Sorry,” Dean smiled, “yeah, we got that.”

 

Michael smiled and stood up. “You guys want something to drink?” he asked, walking into the kitchen.

 

“Whatever’s on tap,” Dean said, patting his knee. 

 

“Uh just-- just whatever,” Sam said, lifting his head. “Juice, I guess.”

 

Michael tossed a can of soda over to Dean, pulling grape juice out of the refrigerator for Sam. After pouring Sam’s drink, he poured himself a glass of water, walking back into the living room. “Here ya go, Sam,” he said, taking a sip of water.

 

“Thank you,” Sam said, taking a drink.

 

“You guys staying for supper?” Michael asked, putting the juice back in the fridge.

 

“Uh,” Dean looked over at Sam, “I don’t know. Are we?” he asked, reaching out to play with the hair at the nape of Sam’s neck.

 

“I don’t wanna be a bother,” Sam replied, giving them a quick smile.

 

“No bother,” Michael replied. “I don’t even plan on cooking.” He smiled and grabbed the cordless, making his way down the hall.

 

“Yeah?” Albany asked, head lolling around his pillow, looking over to Michael.

 

“You wanna order us a couple of pizzas?” Michael asked, tossing the phone onto Albany’s bed.

 

“Only if I can get garlic fingers too,” Albany said, thinking for a moment before dialing the number.

 

“Of course,” Michael agreed, walking back up the hall. “Pizza and garlic fingers sound good to you two?” he asked, taking his seat.

 

Dean nodded eagerly. “Hell yeah. I’m staying even if Sammy doesn’t.”

 

“Sounds great,” Sam nodded, taking another drink. “Loves me some garlic fingers.”

 

Dean grinned, pulling Sam in. “Hell yeah you do,” he said, kissing Sam’s temples. “Sounds good to us Mike, we are staying. And I am putting dibs on like…tell Albany to order a lot of garlic fingers.”

 

“Albany!” Michael called, pushing himself up. “Better make that three orders of garlic fingers!”

 

Albany smiled and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that’s three orders of twelve inch garlic fingers, a Mighty Meaty and a Superworks. And how ‘bout some fries?” he asked.

 

“Mmm,” Dean moaned, rubbing his stomach, “garlic fingers.” He closed his eyes and leaned back, starting to drool a little.

 

Sam laughed loudly, smacking Dean’s stomach. “Dean!” he exclaimed. “Don’t be such a weirdo.”

 

Dean began rocking back and forth, stilling rubbing his stomach. “Garlic fingers,” he groaned, laughing when Sam smacked him again. “Yummy!” 

 

* * * *

 

Dean pushed Sam up against the counter, their mouths moving together wetly, Dean’s fingers curled into Sam’s sweater.

 

Sam sighed and settled into the kiss, cupping Dean cheek, groaning softly as he felt Dean start to try and push up against him, trying to get taller. “Gotta go to work,” he muttered, pulling back, feeling Dean drop down.

 

“Nuh-uh,” Dean said, shaking his head. “I don’t wanna.”

 

Sam smiled and kissed Dean again, blinding reaching out for the car keys, trying to shove them into Dean’s hand. “Deany, drive me to work.”

 

Dean made a face and just leaned against Sam, holding him up against the counter. “Sammy, you drive me,” he whined.

 

“Fine,” Sam said, taking the keys back from Dean. “But you actually have to get into the car, you know.”

 

Dean nodded and finally pushed himself off of Sam, walking over to slip his feet into his sneakers. “Getting freaking hot out, huh?” he asked, picking at his t-shirt.

 

“Well, it is July,” Sam pointed out, waiting for Dean to walk out the door. “Maybe we should get a pool.”

 

Dean groaned loudly, glancing back to watch Sam lock the door. “Oh yes, I definitely concur. Seriously, I don’t know how we last out here.”

 

Sam walked down the steps, going over to the car. “I don’t know; got used to it, I guess.”

 

Dean climbed into the car, making a sound of disgust when he realized that it was even hotter inside the car than it was outside. “Can we go swimming?” he asked, cocking his head to the side.

 

“When?” Sam asked, turning the keys in the ignition.

 

“After work,” Dean said. “After supper tonight or something. In the ocean.”

 

Sam nodded, pulling out of the driveway. “Mm, sounds good. Love getting you half-naked and soaking wet.”

 

“Well, I love getting half-naked and soaking wet,” Dean remarked, “especially for you.” He leaned over, leaning against Sam’s shoulder. “I love you.”

 

Sam smiled, looking down at Dean. “I know. I love you too.”

 

Dean sighed dreamily and sat back down, fiddling with his seatbelt.

 

* * * *

 

Dylan swallowed hard and wrapped his arms around himself, nodding to himself, looking for his bags.

 

“I still vote that we should call your parents,” Victoria said, looking at Dylan.

 

Dylan sighed and shook his head. “They’re probably at work right now anyway,” he muttered, grabbing one of his bags.

 

“Then maybe we should’ve booked a later flight,” Victoria pointed out.

 

“Maybe you should stop talking,” Dylan snapped, yanking on one of his larger bags. 

 

Victoria sighed and rolled her eyes, picking up her bag. “So I assume that we’re calling a cab,” she said, looking around.

 

“Yeah, if you could do that, that would be great,” Dylan said, looking over at her. 

 

“Yeah,” Victoria said, glaring up at him, “I’ll get right on that.” She shook her head and turned away from him, walking away.

 

“Do not call my parents!” Dylan called after her, grabbing his last bag. He sighed and rubbed at his eyes, trying not to cry. 

 

Victoria sniffled and stared at her phone, trying to decide whether or not to go against Dylan and call his parents or actually call the cab. She finally grabbed the phone book by the pay phone and flipped through the pages, trying to find a cab service.

 

Dylan rubbed at his upset stomach and swallowed hard, picking up two of his bags, dragging the other one behind him.

 

Victoria glanced back when she felt Dylan standing behind her, sighing. “Cab service,” she replied, handing her phone over to Dylan. “You probably know where we’re going better than I do.”

 

Dylan set one of his bags down and held her phone up to his ear. “I’m sorry Vic, but--”

 

“Whatever,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m just happy that we’re finally here. I was getting tired of New Hampshire.”

 

“Yeah, I know,” Dylan mumbled, straightening up when the phone was finally answered. “Hi, I need a cab at Long Beach airport. Uh, going to Fullerton? Yeah, I know it’s a longish drive, thank you. But it’s a drive that I need.”

 

Victoria rubbed her stomach and looked up at Dylan. “I’m getting hungry,” she whispered, meeting Dylan’s eyes.

 

“Yes, thank you,” Dylan said, turning off her phone. “Yeah, I know, Vic. They have food in here and stuff, let’s go get some before the cab comes.”

 

“Maybe we can have an actual meal later,” Victoria suggested, following after Dylan. “With your parents.”

 

“Yeah, I…” Dylan shook his head. “I don’t think that we should-- or you should stay with my parents,” he admitted, glancing at Victoria. 

 

“And where will you be spending the night?” Victoria asked. “Why do you get to sleep at home and not me?”

 

“Because it’s my home,” Dylan pointed out. “Vic, listen, I just need to talk to them. It’s not like I’m sending you away or something, just for tonight.”

 

“That flight was hell,” Victoria murmured, stretching her arms above her head. “Are you sure you don’t want help with your bags?” she asked.

 

“I’m fine,” Dylan assured her, shifting his bags to grasp onto her hand as best as he could. “I promise. I’m just happy to be home.”

 

“When are you actually going home?” Victoria asked, taking a seat in the small food court, sighing when she was off her feet.

 

“Later on tonight,” Dylan replied, setting his bags down, digging out his wallet. “Once they’re home from work. Mom gets off at seven, then goes and picks up Dad.”

 

Victoria nodded, smiling up at Dylan. “Sounds good to me.”

 

* * * *

 

Sam swallowed hard and rubbed at his face, letting out a loud sigh. “I hate my life,” he muttered, looking up when he heard something fall to the floor. “Come on!” he exclaimed, throwing his hand in the air.

 

“Calm down,” the woman snapped, reaching out for her young son. “It’s just a shelf.”

 

“It’s just more than two hundred dollars worth of merchandise,” Sam said, pushing himself up. “But no, don’t worry about it. I’ll clean it up.”

 

“Well, that is your job, isn’t it?” she remarked, smirking at Sam before picking her son up. “Come on, honey, let’s go.”

 

“Yes, please do,” Sam muttered, kneeling down to start picking up the books. He sighed and stacked them up on his knee, lifting them up, walking back to the counter.

 

“What. The Hell. Was that?” Peter asked slowly, walking out of his office.

 

“I’ve got it taken care of,” Sam assured him, waving his hand, biting on his bottom lip as he started to reorganize the books in front of him.

 

“Did you get her information?” Peter shrieked, hurrying down the stairs. “Jesus Sam, what if had been the rares?”

 

“Then I’d still have it taken care of,” Sam said, looking over at him. “And it wasn’t her, it was her kid.”

 

“You have a kid,” Peter pointed out. “Learn how to…control them or something.”

 

“My kid’s twenty-one,” Sam said, “I haven’t had to control him in years.”

 

“Where is the little…” Peter trailed off, waving his hands, “you know, your loving angelic son?”

 

“New Hampshire,” Sam replied, making a face when he realized one of the corners on the book was bent. “Or…I don’t know. I think he was supposed to go to Martha’s Vineyard sometime.”

 

“That’s Massachusetts, no?” Peter asked.

 

“Yeah, it’s really not that far though,” Sam said, glancing back at the broken shelf. “He’s living the high life, before he has to come back here for the rest of summer, where his poor family lives.” He sighed, shaking his head.

 

“I’ll get the shelf,” Peter said finally, walking over to the wall. “So what’s the deal with your kid anyway?” he asked, glancing back.

 

“How do you mean?” Sam asked, frowning.

 

Peter shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, how’s he doing in school?”

 

“Fine,” Sam nodded. “He’s good. He’s doing good.” He picked up a couple of the books, walking over to Peter.

 

“He’s gay, huh?” Peter asked.

 

Sam’s eyes opened wide and his mouth opened just a little. “Uh, no. Yes. No. Bi.” He let out a breath and shook his head slightly. “He’s been in two serious relationships in his life; one with a boy, and one with a girl.”

 

“That sounds fun,” Peter nodded.

 

Sam smiled faintly and nodded. “Uh yeah, I guess so.”

 

“Yeah, the old lady’s been on me for awhile now,” Peter said, shoving the shelf back on the wall, “wants me to stay home more often, work less.”

 

“What’d you tell her?” Sam asked.

 

Peter shrugged. “Something along the lines of, ‘Mom, I am my own man now and I’m allowed to work whenever the heck I want to’. I don’t know.”

 

Sam tried to hold it in for as long as he could before he just began laughing loudly, shaking his head.

 

* * * *

 

“No, no, Chucky,” Dean said, rolling around on the floor with the dog, “Mommy and I are going out. I’ll walk you when I get home.”

 

King Chuck barked and whined up at Dean.

 

“Don’t give me that look,” Dean said, sitting up, “don’t you give me that look!” He gave Chuck a kiss, rubbing his head. “I have to go swimming, Chuck. It’s hot. Don’t give me that look!”

 

“Dean, he can’t actually understand you,” Sam said, walking out of the bedroom. “Are you gonna walk him now or later?”

 

Dean frowned and sighed, looking up at Sam helplessly. “He’s giving me that look,” he said pitifully, rubbing the dog’s head. “He wants to go now.”

 

“That’s fine,” Sam nodded. “We can wait to go swimming. Besides, you’d hate to have to walk him afterwards, and get all sweaty again.”

 

Dean lied back on the floor, letting the dog lay his head on his stomach. “What are you gonna do when I am gone?” he asked.

 

Sam smiled and shook his head. “I don’t know Dean, but I’m sure that I can figure something out. Maybe I’ll just have a shower or something. Do laundry.”

 

“I should go get changed,” Dean mumbled, pushing himself up off the floor. “T-shirt and shorts, I guess,” he said, walking into the master bedroom.

 

Sam crouched down, reaching out to let the dog lick his hand. “Oh, doggie, you are quite a trip, aren’t ya? Mommy loves you, yes I do.” He leaned down, kissing the dog’s nose.

 

“You wanna come with?” Dean asked, sticking his head out of the bedroom, pulling a new t-shirt on over his head. 

 

Sam made a face and laughed, shaking his head. “Uh, no? Why would I wanna do that? It’s hot out.”

 

Dean glared and groaned softly, going back into the bedroom.

 

“Get all your dirty clothes together,” Sam said, straightening up, “I’ll do the laundry.”

 

“I put my dirty clothes in the hamper,” Dean replied, looking around for his music player. “They’re all in there.” He glanced back into the room as he walked back out.

 

“Kay,” Sam said, leaning in to give Dean a kiss. “Love you.”

 

Dean smiled and nodded once, kissing Sam again. “Love ya.” He licked his lips and walked away, grabbing the dog leash. “I don’t think we’ll be too long, doggie won’t be able to handle the heat.” He scratched as his arm and slipped an earbud in as he leaned down, hooking the leash onto King Chuck’s collar. “Then we go swimming, yeah?” he asked.

 

Sam smiled and nodded. “Don’t be too long, I don’t wanna have to take a cold shower.”

 

Dean smirked, winking at Sam. “That kind of cold shower?” he teased, leading the dog over to the door.

 

“No, Dean,” Sam said, his hand on Dean’s back, “the kind that cools me down. From the heat.”

 

Dean shook his head, opening the door, starting off down the steps. “Oh trust me, Sammy, I’m definitely feeling the heat too.” He laughed and waved back at Sam. “See ya!”

 

“Yep!” Sam called, pulling the door closed behind him. He sighed and walked into the bathroom, opening the clothes hamper. He began grabbing clothes out and sorting them on the floor, dropping them into separate piles. He glanced down at his watch and began unbuttoning his shirt, shrugging it off, throwing it on one of the piles. He pulled off his t-shirt and dropped that it onto the other one.

 

Dylan sniffled softly and looked out the window, watching the houses go by.

 

“You feeling okay?” Victoria asked, reaching over to gently play with Dylan’s hair.

 

Dylan nodded, not looking over at her. “Fine,” he said softly, looking ahead to the driver. “Just tired,” he replied.

 

Victoria sighed and dropped her hand down, pushing her hair behind her ears. “Yeah, I know what you mean,” she said, leaning her head against the car window.

 

Sam pushed off his jeans and pulled the zipper up before he threw them into the laundry machine along with the other clothes, checking that he had enough fabric softener. He closed the machine and set it, making his way into the bedroom, going over to the dresser. He pulled out a new t-shirt and a pair of worn sweats, pulling his shirt on.

 

Dylan swallowed hard as the taxi pulled into the driveway and looked over at Victoria, undoing his seatbelt. “You gonna be okay?” he asked.

 

Victoria nodded and waved her hand. “I’ll be fine.”

 

“Can you wait?” Dylan asked, leaning forward to the taxi driver. “Just for a second.”

 

“If you’re paying,” the driver replied, glancing back at him in the rearview. He turned the keys in the ignition, the engine shutting off.

 

Dylan nodded and climbed out of the car, gently closing the door behind him. He slipped his hands into his pockets and slowly walked up to the house, shifting nervously a couple of times before finally opening the door, walking in.

 

Victoria wet her lips and shifted in the warm car, absentmindedly playing with her long hair.

 

“Hello?” Dylan called quietly, walking through the kitchen.

 

Sam lifted his head and grinned, running out of the bedroom. “Dylan!” he exclaimed, wrapping his arms around his son. “What’s going on? We didn’t expect you back. I mean, we did, but not yet. What’s going on?”

 

Dylan took a deep breath, rubbing his cheek against Sam’s t-shirt. “Nothing,” he said quietly, not wanting to step back from Sam. “Where’s Dad?” he asked, looking up at him.

 

Sam shook his head. “Uh, he just went out with the dog. For a walk. He’ll be back soon though, we were planning on going to the water. Is Victoria here?” he asked, glancing out the kitchen window. “You guys didn’t have to take a cab, we could’ve picked you up.”

 

“Yeah, Vic’s in the car,” Dylan replied, looking back slowly.

 

“Is she coming in?” Sam asked, walking over to the door. 

 

“No,” Dylan replied. “She’s not feeling very well, she’s-- she’s just going back to the hotel.”

 

“Hotel?” Sam asked, frowning. “Why are you staying at a hotel? What’s going on?”

 

“Nothing,” Dylan said quietly. “Can you help me with my bags?” he asked, opening the door.

 

“Yeah,” Sam said, nodding slowly, “of course.” He slipped his feet into his sneakers and followed Dylan outside, waving at Victoria.

 

Victoria smiled faintly and waved a couple of times, opening the door a crack. “Hi,” she said softly, squinting in the bright sunlight.

 

“What’s going on?” Sam asked, grabbing one of Dylan’s bags out of the trunk. “You feeling okay?”

 

Victoria paused for a moment before shaking her head, hands going to her stomach. “No, not particularly. It’s why I’m at the hotel.”

 

“We have no problem taking care of a sick person,” Sam assured him, helping Dylan with his heaviest bag. “I mean, you’re not really a sick person, but I just meant that it wouldn’t be a bother.”

 

Victoria shook her head, smiling up at Sam. “Thank you anyway, though. Maybe in a couple of days.”

 

“You sure?” Sam asked.

 

Victoria nodded. “Thank you.”

 

“Okay,” Sam said, opening the door the rest of the way to lean in, quickly kissing her forehead. “Feel better then.”

 

Victoria sighed dreamily and nodded, smiling thankfully up at Sam. “I will.”

 

“I’ll talk to you later,” Dylan assured her, leaning into the car, giving her a kiss. “I love you.”

 

“Love you too,” Victoria replied, kissing him again before pulling the door closed.

 

“Alright, let’s get all this stuff in the house,” Sam said, picking up Dylan’s two lighter bags. “So how was your trip? How was New Hampshire?”

 

“Great,” Dylan nodded, following Sam into the house. “I mean, it was fine.”

 

“That’s good,” Sam nodded, shifting the bags in his hands as they began making their way down to Dylan’s room. “It’s good to have you back.”

 

“It’s great to be here,” Dylan said, “believe me. You have no idea.”

 

Sam frowned slightly, dropping Dylan’s bags on the floor. “Are you feeling okay?”

 

Dylan shrugged before nodding, wiping at his forehead. “I’d just rather wait until Dad was home,” he explained, dropping his bag on the bed.

 

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked quickly, reaching out to Dylan. “Are you okay? Is something wrong?”

 

Dylan swallowed hard and dropped his eyes, shifting on his feet. “I wanna wait for Dad,” he said again, moments later, looking around his room. “If that’s okay.”

 

Sam kissed Dylan’s forehead, pulling him in for a hug. “Of course it is,” he assured him, his mind instantly running through all of the things that could be wrong. “Is everything okay?” he asked, rubbing Dylan’s back gently.

 

Dylan nodded and settled against Sam, closing his eyes. “I just wanted to come home,” he explained, taking a deep breath.

 

* * * *

 

“Whoo!” Dean exclaimed, still slightly jogging on the spot as he reached down, unhooking the dog from his leash.

 

Sam lifted his head and looked at Dean, reaching over to squeeze Dylan’s leg gently.

 

“Hot out,” Dean said, kicking his off his sneakers. “Wait…” he stepped further into the house, seeing Dylan. “Dylan!”

 

Dylan smiled weakly and nodded as he stood up, walking into the kitchen, letting Dean pull him into a sweaty hug. “Hi, Dad,” he whispered.

 

“Did we know you were coming home today?” Dean asked, pulling back.

 

Dylan shook his head slowly. “No,” he replied. “Bit of a surprise.”

 

“Great to see you,” Dean grinned, patting Dylan on the shoulder. “You gonna go swimming with us?” he asked.

 

Dylan swallowed hard and glanced back at Sam, who was watching them both closely. “I guess, yeah. I’m sure I have shorts somewhere.”

 

“Cool,” Dean nodded, turning away to go into the bedroom.

 

“What’s so important that you wanted to wait until he got home?” Sam asked quietly, pushing himself up off the couch. 

 

“Can it wait?” Dylan asked hopefully, looking up at Sam.

 

“I don’t know, Dylan,” Sam pointed out, “can it?” he asked.

 

Dylan thought for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, it can. Lots of time.”

 

“Good,” Sam said, trying to give Dylan a smile. “That makes me feel a bit better.”

 

Dylan swallowed and dropped his eyes, walking by Sam to go down to his bedroom.

 

Sam went after Dean, closing the door behind him. “How was your run?” he asked, going to the dresser to pull out his swim trunks.

 

Dean groaned, shaking his head. “Christ, it’s warm out. I can’t believe Dylan’s here though. He-- where’s Victoria?” he asked suddenly.

 

“At a hotel,” Sam replied. “She said she’s not feeling well. But…then Dylan said that he has something important to tell us. And he had to wait until you came home.”

 

Dean raised an eyebrow and glanced over Sam’s shoulder to the door. “What about?” he asked.

 

Sam shrugged. “I don’t know, Dean. But Victoria’s at a hotel and Dylan shows up, without warning and says that he needs to tell us something. What am I-- what are we supposed to do?”

 

“Maybe she’s…” Dean nodded, gesturing with his hands, “sick. Like, really sick.”

 

Sam sighed, thinking. “I don’t know, maybe. She looked fine.”

 

“That doesn’t mean anything, Sam,” Dean pointed out. “Believe me, I know. As a sick person, I know.” 

 

Sam shook his head, reaching out for Dean. “You’re not a sick person. Not anymore. Five years. You’re safe.”

 

Dean sighed and shook his head, thinking as he pulled his swim trunks on. “So, do we bring it up?”

 

“He said he can wait until later,” Sam replied. “But that doesn’t mean that it actually can. But no, I think we let him bring it up. I don’t wanna bother him with it.”

 

“Okay,” Dean agreed softly, going into the bathroom to grab a couple towels.

 

* * * *

 

Dylan swallowed hard and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, inhaling the salt air, automatically getting a chill.

 

Dean closed his breath and held his eyes, falling onto his stomach, floating limply on the water. 

 

Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head, sitting in the water. He wrapped his arms around himself, letting the water run down his arms. He shifted and leaned back, soaking his hair. 

 

Dean finally lifted his head up, going over to Sam. “You good?” he asked, dropping heavily beside Sam, water splashing.

 

“Perfect,” Sam replied, opening his eyes slightly, sun still a bit too bright. He leaned down, giving Dean a kiss with the heavy taste of salt.

 

Dean pulled back, resting his head against Sam’s shoulder. “Remember how we used to bring Dylan here all the time when he was a kid?” he asked.

 

Sam looked back at Dylan, sighing sadly. “I wish I knew what was going on with him. He looks so sad.”

 

Dean lifted his head and looked back at Dylan, wetting his lips. “I’m glad he’s home then. If something’s wrong…I want him home.”

 

“He goes back next month,” Sam pointed out.

 

Dean shook his head. “Not if there’s something wrong, he doesn’t. I want him home.”

 

Sam nodded, looking back towards the water. “Yeah,” he agreed quietly, “I want him home too.”

 

Dylan swallowed hard and reached down, running his fingers through the warm sand. He began drawing random shapes in the sand, eventually ending up with small stick figures in front of a house, swallowing hard.

 

“What you got there?” Dean asked, pushing himself out of the water.

 

Dylan messed up his drawing, shaking his head, looking up at Dean. “Nothing,” he replied, giving him a small smile. “Just…relaxing. It’s nice to be back. The beaches, the sun, the palm trees…New Hampshire does nothing for me.”

 

Dean smiled, dropping down on his towel. “No, you’re a Cali boy, through and through.” He reached out, ruffling Dylan’s hair. “So, how’s Victoria?” he asked.

 

Dylan shook his head. He looked over to the water and started to rock back and forth gently. “I…I’m really scared, Dad,” he admitted, looking back down at Dean. “And I don’t know what to do.”

 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Dean said, wrapping his arms around Dylan, “it’ll be okay. Whatever it is.”

 

Dylan sniffled and his shoulders began to shake as he cried into Dean’s chest.

 

Sam’s eyes began to sting with tears and he sniffled, pushing himself up, walking out of the water, sitting down on the sand beside Dean and Dylan. “Tell us what’s going on, Dylan,” he said gently, running his fingers up and down Dylan’s back.

 

Dylan swallowed hard and pulled back from Dean, tears running down his cheeks. “It’s-- it’s Victoria.”

 

Sam nodded, waiting for Dylan to go on.

 

“What about her?” Dean prompted soothingly. “Is she sick?” he asked.

 

“She’s pregnant,” Dylan replied, before his head dropped forward and he continued to cry.

 

Dean slowly looked over at Sam, eyes wide, and Sam just swallowed, closing his eyes.

 

* * * *

 

“I don’t know what to do with him,” Sam said, shaking his head. “He-- I don’t know. She’s pregnant.”

 

“I heard,” Dean snapped, shoving his closet door closed. “I…fucking heard.”

 

Sam bit down on his lip and his feet started bouncing nervously, breath shaky. “Where is he?”

 

“Putting his clothes away,” Dean replied, walking over to their bed, dropping down. “I just…” he shook his head, wiping his eyes, “it’s not right. He’s only a kid. He’s still a kid, our kid. He can’t raise one of his own.”

 

“We don’t know what they’re doing, Dean,” Sam pointed out quietly. “Maybe they’re giving it up.”

 

“Hopefully,” Dean muttered, standing up to start yanking at the bed sheets, pulling them back to climb under.

 

Dylan pushed at his parents’ door and slowly walked in, before seeing his parents. “I’m sorry,” he cried, hurrying over to them.

 

“It’s okay,” Sam said, pulling him in, “it’s okay. It’ll be okay. It has to be, okay? We always make it.”

 

“This is different,” Dylan said, shaking his head, glancing over at Dean, “it’s scarier. It’s scarier than anything that’s ever happened. She’s pregnant. My baby’s in her.”

 

“Let’s get in bed, okay?” Sam suggested, standing up and walking over to flick off the lights, going back to the bed. He waited for Dylan to climb into bed and climbed in after him, sandwiching Dylan between him and Dean. “How…how far along is she?”

 

“Um, eleven weeks,” Dylan replied, wiping at his eyes. He pulled the sheets up further and snuggled in between his parents. “Eleven weeks.”

 

“When’s she due?” Dean asked, starting to lightly play with Dylan’s hair.

 

Dylan smiled weakly. “February fifteenth,” he replied, trying not to let his eyes drift closed.

 

“Sounds like there could be a Valentine’s baby in the family,” Sam remarked. “If…I mean, that is if--” he looked over at Dean helplessly.

 

“I think what Sam is trying to ask,” Dean interrupted, looking over at Sam, “have you two talked about the possibilities of…an abortion?”

 

Dylan nodded jerkily, breath hitching as more tears came. “She doesn’t believe in it,” he said miserably. “She thinks it’s-- it’s murder. She told me that-- that as a former fetus herself…” he shook his head, trying to wipe his face on the pillow, “she can’t do it. She won’t.”

 

Sam let out a disappointed sigh and shook his head. “Then I assume she wants to give it up for adoption.”

 

Dylan drew a sharp breath, shaking his head quickly. “I can’t. I won’t. I won’t give up my baby.”

 

“Dylan,” Dean said, pushing himself up, “you’re not thinking about this. You can’t raise this baby.”

 

“No, I-- I can,” Dylan said, “I have to. It has to be us.”

 

“Why?” Sam asked, gently cupping Dylan’s cheek, getting him to look over at him. “Why do you have to raise him?”

 

“Because he’s gonna be a freak,” Dylan cried, shoulders shaking again. “I know he will be. He’s gonna be like me. Like-- like you, Mom. And…” he gave himself a moment to cry, trying to calm down before he spoke again. “I was like three when I was so afraid of the dark that I made things move with my mind.”

 

“Yeah, we were there,” Dean pointed out, looking over at Sam.

 

“What if that happens to my baby?” Dylan asked. “I can’t imagine going through that without somebody knowing what it was, what was happening. If he lives with somebody else and that happens, they won’t know what’s going on. If they even last that long.”

 

Sam sighed, shifting on the mattress. “I think I see where you’re going with this.”

 

“I’m not going to endanger the lives of somebody else so that I can have my life a little easier,” Dylan said, shaking his head. “That’s not fair to anybody. My baby loses a parent, a parent loses their life. It should be me.”

 

“Maybe this is the point where you tell Victoria what Sam and I used to do for a living,” Dean suggested quietly, stretching and yawning.

 

“What would you do?” Dylan asked. “What would you do if somebody you loved told you that everything they had ever said to you was a lie, and that the things that go bump in the night, really do exist? Would you take away a baby?”

 

“Dylan, she’s going to want a reason,” Sam pointed out. “And you have to give her one. She deserves to know.”

 

“No, she doesn’t!” Dylan exclaimed. “She doesn’t! She’s done nothing to deserve it!”

 

“She loves you,” Sam said. “Isn’t that enough?” he asked.

 

“I…I don’t want this baby,” Dylan said. “But if she’s going to have it, then I’m gonna fucking keep it. You can help me. You can help me raise it. Right?”

 

“Dylan, a baby is a huge responsibility,” Dean pointed out. “It’s not just-- it’s not a dog. Or a rabbit. It’s a person, and eventually that person walks and talks and needs to go to school and needs to be raised. You’re only twenty-one.”

 

“Victoria’s twenty-three,” Dylan said quickly. “The same age as you, Mom, when you had me. You did it, why can’t she?”

 

“I didn’t do it well,” Sam admitted quietly, shifting uncomfortably. “I put your life at risk, and mine, more than once.”

 

“I knew I shouldn’t’ve told you,” Dylan muttered, sitting up, pushing his sheets off of him. “I knew it.”

 

“Dylan,” Sam said, grasping onto Dylan’s wrist before he could he even try to climb over one of them, “don’t. We’re just in shock. A year ago, you were…engaged then not. Now you’re going to have a baby with her.”

 

“How long have you known?” Dean asked.

 

Dylan shrugged, trying to think. “Awhile. Since the middle of June. She was late and went to the doctor.” He sniffled. “That’s why we stayed in New Hampshire. Her parents are rich, and she said that they’ll help. They’ll pay if we need it.”

 

“February fifteenth,” Dean murmured, nodding to himself. “That’s not for awhile.”

 

Dylan shook his head. “Like, twenty-eight weeks left. Or something. I think she’s counting down the days.”

 

“How is she feeling?” Sam asked.

 

“Fine,” Dylan replied. “I don’t know when the symptoms are supposed to start, but she’s fine now. So far.”

 

“I think that morning sickness starts around now,” Sam said quietly. “None of that?”

 

Dylan shook his head. “No. And I’ve been with her, I’d notice.”

 

“What, next week,” Sam began, thinking, “she finishes her first trimester?”

 

Dylan nodded. “Yeah. Twelve weeks. That’s sort of like the safe zone or something. I know it’s so sick to think, disgusting even, but I know that sometimes miscarriages just happen. I thought it’d be easier on everybody.”

 

“Are you marrying her?” Dean asked.

 

Dylan shook his head. “I didn’t love her that much a year ago, and I don’t love her that much now.” He cleared his throat gently and pulled at his sheets again. “Am I a bad person?”

 

Sam leaned in, kissing Dylan’s head, holding him close. “No,” he assured him. “Never. You’re a good person, Dylan.”

 

“Will I be a good father?” Dylan asked quietly, yawning.

 

Sam looked over at Dean, who was watching Dylan. Dean swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing, leaning in to give Dylan a kiss of his own. “You’re going to be a great father,” Dean whispered harshly, squeezing his eyes shut to keep his tears in.


	39. Chapter 38

Title: Look What Love Has Done - Volume 3 - Chapter 38

Pairing: Sam/Dean

Disclaimer: Not mine

Rating: PG-13 this chapter

Summary: Paul comes to visit and help Dylan and Victoria get ready for the baby.

Author's Note: Forget volume one, forget volume two; this is volume three 

 

twenty-one years, nine months and twenty-five days old

 

“You really…” Dylan sighed and stepped back, letting Dean and Paul walk by him, “you guys didn’t have to do this. I’m sure that my old crib’s around the house somewhere. Taken apart in the closet or something. This crib is a huge gift.”

 

“Yeah,” Sam nodded, “but it’s a huge gift that you need. Did you tell Victoria’s parents that they don’t have to pay for your apartment?” he asked.

 

Dylan shook his head. “Uh, no. But they can afford it,” he pointed out. 

 

Sam laughed, shaking his head. “Dylan, it’s just a crib. We can afford it too. We’re not broke or anything. And it’s our grandkid. Plus, you seriously need one.”

 

“It just makes me feel bad,” Dylan murmured. “I should be able to afford my own crib. I should be able to afford it all.”

 

“And maybe if you were older than twenty-one, you could,” Sam pointed out. “But you’re not. But luckily, you have us and Victoria’s family to take care of you.”

 

“Where do you want this thing to go?” Paul asked, setting the crib down gently, glancing back at Sam and Dylan. “And you better not be one of those people who changes their mind every three goddamn seconds, ‘cause when I said that I would come to help Dylan, I did not--”

 

“What’s going on?” Victoria asked, awkwardly making her way out of their bedroom, reaching out for Dylan.

 

“Where do we want the crib to go?” Dylan asked, gently grasping onto her hand. “Can you make it alright?” he asked quietly, walking her over to the nursery. 

 

Victoria smiled over at Paul and Dean, walking in. “Um, just over there, I guess,” she said, waving towards the left corner of the room. “But with enough room to still walk around it.” She looked back at Sam. “Thank you for the crib, it’s so pretty.”

 

“No!” Dean exclaimed, lifting his head. “Not pretty!”

 

Victoria made a face, looking over at Dylan for an explanation.

 

“Dad’s sort of hopping for another boy,” Dylan explained, giving Victoria a smile. “It’s like a Winchester tradition.”

 

“Well technically, I think there’s a fifty-fifty chance,” Victoria said, looking over to Dean, who was helping Paul push the crib into place.

 

“What are your parents hoping for?” Sam asked.

 

“I think a girl,” Victoria replied, resting her hands on her stomach. “My mother loves the idea of buying the fancy frilly designer dresses. That I used to have to wear. Well, I think my dad might want a boy. Take him hunting for pheasants or something.” She giggled and turned around, making her way into the kitchen.

 

Sam smiled as he walked into the nursery, reaching out to wrap his arms around Dylan, holding him close. “I think it might be nice for a girl for once. A little granddaughter.”

 

Dylan sighed, nodding his head. “I’m really just ready for whatever. Love ‘em both the same.”

 

Sam kissed Dylan’s temple, nodding. “Good boy,” he said, unwrapping his arms from Dylan. “I’ll go get the bedding for the crib out of the car.”

 

“Thanks,” Dylan called behind him, going over to Paul. “So, how many classes are you missing to be here right now?”

 

“Nah, nothing that I can’t make up later,” Paul said, waving his hand. “And I don’t think that you’re the one who should be talking about missing classes. You didn’t even come back this year.”

 

Dylan sighed, shaking his head. “Once the…baby’s older, I’m gonna stay here for school. I wanna be with my parents.”

 

Paul nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets as he looked around the nursery. “Nice apartment. Her parents are paying, you said?”

 

Dylan nodded. “They wanted us to move to New Hampshire with them,” he explained, “but I wouldn’t do it and Victoria didn’t want us to be apart.”

 

“When are they flying in?” Paul asked, glancing back at Dylan as he walked out of the nursery. “She’s due next week, yeah?”

 

“Her parents are both kind of…important,” Dylan said, “at their jobs. They don’t want to waste anytime of from work, so don’t think that they’ll be coming until after the baby’s born, just to visit.”

 

Paul nodded understandingly. “Plus your parents are here to help.”

 

“That we are,” Dean nodded, wiping his hands together as he walked out of the nursery. “Because we are awesome. Where’d Sam go?”

 

“To uh, get the bedding for the crib?” Dylan asked, trying to think. 

 

“Yeah, he can do that,” Dean said, walking by Paul and Dylan. “I am not putting bedding on anything, Sam!” he called when Sam walked back into the apartment. “It’s for women!”

 

“What’s he going on about?” Sam asked, smiling as he walked back down to the nursery.

 

“God knows,” Dylan muttered, shaking his head. He sighed and looked around, leaning back a bit to see into the kitchen. “You good in there, Vic?” he asked, taking a couple of steps.

 

“I’m fine,” Victoria replied, taking a long drink of her glass of milk.

 

“Good,” Dylan nodded slowly, looking back to Paul. “So, what do you wanna do?”

 

“Well, if you’re done using me for slave labor,” Paul teased, “then I don’t know. You got cable in this place?” he asked.

 

“Yeah, her grandfather seemed to think the baby needed a widescreen TV,” Dylan replied, leading Paul into the living room. “Shove over, Dad,” he said, dropping down onto the couch.

 

Dean sighed and handed the remote over to Dylan, shifting on the couch. “You guys ever gonna paint this place or anything?” he asked, looking around. “You’ve been in here a couple of months.”

 

“I know,” Dylan said, flicking slowly through the channels, “but I’m fine with white walls. At least for now.”

 

“You’re not going to have any time to paint for a few months,” Dean smiled, clasping onto Dylan’s shoulder.

 

“I’m okay with that,” Dylan assured him, nodding at Dean. “I think that I’ll have more important things to do.”

 

Paul shook his head slowly. “Dude, I can’t believe you’re gonna be a dad. Like, a father. She’s gonna pop out a baby in a week, you know.”

 

“My ankles may be swollen and I may have put on thirty pounds,” Victoria began, taking a couple of steps into the living room, “but I’m not deaf. Don’t refer to my pregnancy as ‘popping one out’, please and thank you.” 

 

Sam walked out of the nursery, going straight for Victoria. “Do you wanna come see it now?” he asked, smiling over at everyone else. “The crib, I mean. The bedding’s on and everything.”

 

“Of course,” Victoria said, slowly following behind Sam. “Again, thank you so much for giving us this. The baby’s probably going to spend a lot of time in it.”

 

“Oh, Dylan loved his crib,” Sam said, nodding, “but I think he loved being held even more. He was so tiny. I could just sit there for hours, watching his fingers curl and his little feet kick. Little Dill Pickle.”

 

Victoria walked into the room, grinning at the crib. “Oh, it’s so perfect. Boy or girl, it’s gorgeous.”

 

“I’m glad that you think so,” Sam said, smiling. “And hopefully, me and Dylan and Dean and Paul will have the dresser and things done by the time the baby comes.”

 

“I could get one of my brothers to fly in,” Victoria suggested, looking up at Sam, “they could help.”

 

“No,” Sam said, shaking his head, “we’re fine. I mean, get your brothers to fly in, but not just to help us. They should come anyway.”

 

Victoria scrunched up her face, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t trust my brothers around a baby. Rugby players, and all.”

 

Sam looked over at her. “I don’t think they would throw the baby, Victoria. They’re not that bad, are they?”

 

“They might be,” Victoria replied, shrugging. “I don’t know. I’m sure they’ll get to see the baby eventually.” She walked over to the crib, fingering the fabric. “So nice, thank you. It’s a great gift.”

 

“It’s our grandbaby,” Sam said softly, “nothing less than the best.” He smiled over at Victoria before turning, walking out of the nursery. He walked down the hall into the living room, smiling over at Dean. “What are you doing?” he asked, reaching out to play absentmindedly with Dylan’s hair.

 

“Just sitting with the kids,” Dean replied, wrapping his arm around Paul’s shoulders. “I feel like Bill Cosby.”

 

“Dean!” Sam exclaimed. “Jesus! When the hell did you become a racist?” he asked. “Paul, ignore him.” He reached out, grabbing Dean’s arm off of him.

 

Dean sighed and pushed himself up, walking over to Sam. “I meant Kid’s Say the Darnedest Things,” he explained, following Sam out of the living room. “I don’t even remember you being this touchy during your pregnancy,” he muttered, looking up at Sam.

 

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. “Can you ever be normal, just for once?” he asked. “We’re going to have a baby soon.”

 

“Okay, we’re not,” Dean pointed out, “and I managed to keep the same personality before Dylan, during Dylan and after Dylan. And now, I get to be the wacky grandfather. It’s perfect.”

 

Sam shook his head, looking over to Victoria. “Maybe it’s just time for us to go,” he said quietly, turning back to Dean. “We’ve bothered them enough for today.”

 

Dean sighed, glancing back at Victoria. “Sam, we’re not bothering them. What’s going on?” he asked.

 

Sam shook his head. “Nothing. I’m just tired. And nervous. Any day, right?”

 

Dean leaned up, kissing Sam’s forehead gently. “Yeah, okay. Come on, I’ll take ya home.”

 

“You guys are going?” Dylan asked, pushing himself up off the couch. “You don’t have to. I mean, I was gonna make lunch…or something.”

 

“No, you weren’t,” Paul said, not even looking away from the television. 

 

“What’s going on?” Dylan asked, walking over to his parents. “Everything okay?”

 

“Just tired,” Sam replied softly, rubbing at his eyes, “we’ll probably be back after supper or something. Of course, you just call us if anything happens.”

 

Dylan nodded, giving Sam a quick smile. “Yeah, of course.”

 

“You three be good now,” Dean said, walking over to get his sneakers. He pulled the first one on, hopping up and down, trying to get it on correctly. “Or wait, is Paul staying with us?”

 

“Paul’s sleeping on their couch, Dean,” Sam replied, picking up his own shoes. “Unless you wanna take him home with us?” he teased. He pulled on his sneakers, grabbing his jacket. “We’ll see you guys later,” he said, pulling open the door. 

 

“Bye,” Victoria said, waving at them as she walked into the living room.

 

“Love you,” Dylan said, reaching out to hold the door, smiling at Sam and Dean as they walked out of the apartment. 

 

Dean grinned and waved, following Sam down the hallway. “Talk to you later, kiddo,” he said before Dylan closed the door behind them. “Is it too early for an early-bird dinner? I’m kind of hungry.”

 

Sam frowned, trying to think. “I think that we have to have lunch first, before we can have any kind of dinner.”

 

“What are you making me for lunch then?” Dean asked, grinning up at Sam. “And after you make it, can we go out for dinner?”

 

Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head in disbelief, but still started to grin. “Let’s just go home, Dean, okay? I think we still have some of your birthday cake left over. Will that shut you up?”

 

“Oh, hell yeah, you know it will,” Dean nodded eagerly, hurrying to the elevator.

 

* * * *

 

Dean reached up with the remote and turned the channel, taking a drink of his coffee. Sam sighed and scratched the back of his neck, quickly writing on the paper. “What are you writing there, anyway?” Dean asked, finally looking over.

 

Sam lifted his head, looking to Dean, giving him a small smile. “Nothing,” he replied, looking back down.

 

“Ooh,” Dean said, perking up, instantly interested. “Nothing?” he repeated, trying to peer over to read Sam’s writing. “Looks like something to me.”

 

“Well, of course it’s something,” Sam said, “it’s just none of your business, really.”

 

“Is it a letter?” Dean asked. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me what it says, just tell me what it is.”

 

“It’s a journal,” Sam replied, reaching over to pick up the actual book, slipping the piece of paper back in. “For the baby. When they’re older.”

 

“A journal?” Dean asked, frowning slightly. “Like Dad’s?”

 

Sam nodded, giving Dean another smile. “Yeah, kind of. There’s less of the hunting part, since I don’t really see Dylan ever telling Victoria about it, and just more of the…grandfatherly advice part.”

 

“So I can’t write anything in it?” Dean asked. “I’m going to be a grandfather too.”

 

Sam sighed. “I don’t know. I mean, I guess. If you want. But I don’t you to read what I’ve written.”

 

“I won’t,” Dean assured him. “Do I have to write something now?” he asked.

 

Sam shook his head. “Whenever you want, I guess. But it’s coming soon, so you might wanna start soon.”

 

Dean sighed, taking a sip of his drink. “I just…can’t believe that she’s due in a week. We’re going to have a grandbaby. Dylan’s going to be a father.”

 

Sam smiled weakly. “I wish Dad was here. He’d know what to do. He was the ultimate grandfather after all.” He frowned and picked his pen back up, writing again. 

 

“So I can’t see it?” Dean asked.

 

Sam shook his head. “No. It’s for the baby. When they’re older. If they want to let you read it then, then it’s fine. I don’t wanna read what you have to say. These are just things that I want to get out.”

 

“How long have you been writing this for anyway?” Dean asked.

 

“Since Victoria was…” Sam shrugged, “I’m not sure. Five months along? I think when it finally hit me that there was going to be a baby in the family.”

 

“Sometimes, I still can’t believe it,” Dean admitted. “Man. A baby. Dylan’s going to have a baby. Our baby’s going to be a father.”

 

Sam closed his eyes for a moment, feeling tears start to spring up. “It’s going to be so much easier for them than it ever was for us.”

 

“Do I detect a smidge of jealously?” Dean teased, pushing himself up on his knees, reaching over to set his coffee down on the table.

 

Sam swallowed hard. “I don’t know. I thought I’d-- I thought it’d be getting better as it got closer. I just getting more scared. Keep wondering if Dylan’s going to break.”

 

“If he was going to,” Dean began, “he probably would have by now. The kid’s dealing, and he’s doing it well.” He wrapped his arm around Sam’s neck, leaning against him. “I think my nerves are going to be freaking out until I actually see the baby.”

 

Sam let out a deep breath. “I think I’m going to go to bed,” he said finally, pushing himself up off the couch.

 

“Uh…” Dean looked up at Sam, “are you okay?”

 

Sam nodded and waved his hand, walking towards their bedroom. “Fine,” he replied, closing the journal, disappearing through the doorway.

 

Dean stared at the bedroom door, trying to figure out what to do before just dropping back down onto the couch. “Hmm,” he said, reaching out for his coffee.

 

Sam dropped down onto the bed and curled up, tapping his pen against the journal, trying to think. He bit his lip and frowned, getting out a new piece of paper. He began doodling absentmindedly, running his fingers through his hair. Eventually he began writing again, not really thinking about what he was putting down.

 

* * * *

 

Dylan yawned softly as he walked out of the bedroom, smiling as the sounds of Paul snoring made his way over to him. He walked over to the living room, sticking his head into the living room.

 

Paul’s lips smacked in his sleep as he snorted extra loud, turning over on the couch. His arm flopped off, hand dropping to the floor, but he still didn’t wake.

 

Dylan shook his head and walked back into the hallway, softly making his way down to the nursery, pushing the door open. He swallowed hard and looked around, trying to imagine a crying baby in the empty crib. He walked over, running his fingers over the wood. He yawned again, shaking his head. “Have to get used to it,” he muttered to himself, reaching into adjust the bedding. 

 

Paul finally rolled off of the couch, hitting the floor with a loud thump. “Ow,” he muttered, rubbing his shoulder.

 

Dylan looked up and reluctantly walked out of the nursery, going to the living room. “Are you okay?” he asked softly, looking down at Paul.

 

Paul nodded slowly and just reached up, grabbing his blanket and his pillow, pulling them down onto the floor with him.

 

Dylan smiled and thought for a moment, before carefully sitting down beside Paul. “Can I just sit here with you for a sec?”

 

“Sure,” Paul breathed, as he snuggled under the blanket, closing his eyes. 

 

“I think I should try and get all the sleep that I can,” Dylan murmured, lying down on his side, curling up on the floor. 

 

“I don’t know why you always get up in the night anyway,” Paul said, yawning loudly. “Baby’s not here yet.”

 

“Any day,” Dylan pointed out. “How long are you going to stay for?” he asked quietly.

 

Paul shrugged. “I’m about to go in there and threaten that girl into giving birth soon. You know how many classes I’m missing to be here right now?”

 

Dylan nodded. “Yeah, I do. And thank you. You can help my parents with the dresser tomorrow.”

 

Paul groaned loudly and rolled onto his stomach, pulling his pillow over his head.

 

* * * *

 

Victoria yawned and stretched, keeping on hand on her stomach as the other reached up above her head. She looked back at Dylan and Paul and smiled, before her hand dropped to the back of her neck, trying to rub out the pain in her back. 

 

Paul laughed and tossed the book at Dylan, shaking his head. “Dylan, pick a name!” he exclaimed.

 

“I want to meet the kid first,” Dylan explained, but he began flipping through the pages anyway. “How can you pick a name without meeting the person?”

 

“Victoria,” Paul whined, pushing himself up on the couch to look over at her, “you’ve picked a name out, right?” he asked.

 

“Yeah, but I don’t have a problem with Dylan choosing not to,” Victoria replied. “And stop throwing books at him; the last thing I need is a bruised boyfriend.”

 

“What name has she picked?” Paul asked quietly, looking back down at Dylan. 

 

Dylan shrugged, looking up from his book. “I don’t know. She won’t even tell me what gender she’s picked it for.” He frowned and closed the book, dropping it back down onto the couch. “It’ll come to me. The name, I mean. When I see the baby.”

 

“I’m surprised that your dad’s not in here,” Paul began, “trying to push his name on you.”

 

Victoria groaned softly and tried to shift her position in her chair, trying to alleviate the backache, before finally just awkwardly pushing herself up. 

 

“You okay?” Dylan asked, looking over to her.

 

Victoria nodded and swallowed hard, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she replied, slowly making her way out of the living room, “just sore.”

 

Dylan sighed, reaching out for her hand as she walked by. “You sure you’re just sore?” he asked.

 

Victoria smiled and squeezed her fingers in Dylan’s hand. “I’m pretty sure. I’m just going to go have a warm bath.” She cleared her throat and wet her lips, practically shuffling towards the bathroom.

 

Paul glanced down at his watch. “Okay. Due date’s in two days, and she’s sore.” He looked over at Dylan. “Might wanna keep an eye on her,” he whispered, as if it was some big secret.

 

“Of course she’s sore, Paul,” Dylan snapped, “she’s not used to weighing more than one-thirty. I’d be sore too.” He shook his head gently, picking the baby name book back up, flipping through the pages. “Paul,” he read, “small. Latin. Disciple of Christ, Paul McCartney.”

 

“Small?” Paul repeated, reaching out for the book. “Oh hell no, it doesn’t say that!”

 

Dylan grinned, keeping the book away from him. “Victoria, winner, conqueror. Latin. Queen Victoria.” He flipped back towards the beginning of the book. “Dylan. Born from the sea. Welsh. Bob Dylan, Dylan Thomas.”

 

Paul sighed, reaching out to take the book from Dylan. “So, no ideas at all of what you wanna name the kid?” he asked, flipping through the pages.

 

Dylan swallowed hard, letting out a breath. “Look up John,” he said finally, meeting Paul’s eyes. 

 

“John,” Paul read, finding it in the book, “means God is gracious. It’s Hebrew.” He looked up. “That’s your uh, your grandfather or something, right?”

 

Dylan nodded. “Yeah, but it’s not really important. It’ll probably be a girl and then Victoria will just name her.”

 

“With no say from you?” Paul asked, sitting up straight. “No fair.”

 

Dylan smiled and shrugged. “If it’s a boy…I mean, I don’t know. It’s fair, I guess. I think if it’s a boy, she’s going to let me name him.”

 

Paul looked at Dylan for a few more moments before finally looking back down, going through the book. “Dean,” he read. “From the valley.”

 

“English,” Dylan finished. “Samuel is Hebrew, like John, but Sam is English too.”

 

“So what’s his real name?” Paul asked. “Samuel or Sam?”

 

“Samuel,” Dylan replied. “What’s it mean?” he asked, leaning forward.

 

“His name is God,” Paul read, nodding to himself. “Wow. Your mom sounds pretty important.”

 

Dylan snorted and shook his head. “Jesus, don’t let my dad hear you say that. ‘From the valley’ will just piss him off even more if he thinks Mom’s the reincarnation of God or something.”

 

Paul laughed, shaking his head, dropping the book. “So, Dylan, is there anything that you wanna ask me?” he prompted.

 

Dylan frowned and shook his head slowly. “Uh, no? What the hell would I be asking you?” he asked.

 

Paul raised an eyebrow. “Don’t even try it man. Victoria told me.”

 

“Victoria told you what?” Dylan asked.

 

“That even though you’re not religious,” Paul began, “like, at all, her family sort of is.”

 

Dylan nodded. “Yeah, that’s true. But what about it?” he asked.

 

“She was wondering if you were going to ask me to be the baby’s unofficial godfather,” Paul explained. “Or…not.”

 

“But I don’t-- but I don’t think we’re raising the baby religious,” Dylan said. “Or baptizing them. Isn’t that what a godparent has to do with?”

 

Paul shrugged. “It was her idea, I don’t know. I think that she just wants me to think that I have something to do with this kid.”

 

Dylan smiled and shook his head, pulling Paul in for a quick hug. “Fine,” he agreed. “If you wanna be a unofficial, non-religious, godfather, then go for it. I don’t know what that means though.”

 

“It means I get to give awesome advice and speak with cotton balls in my mouth,” Paul grinned. “It means that I have an excuse to come visit you two on my breaks.”

 

Dylan grinned back at him. “Paul, you always have an excuse. And if you didn’t, you’d still come anyway.”

 

“Okay, true,” Paul agreed, “but since this kid’s not going to have any aunts or uncles on your side of the family, they can just call me Uncle Paul.”

 

Dylan nodded understandingly. “Like my Uncle Bobby,” he replied.

 

“Uh, who?” Paul asked.

 

Dylan shook his head. “A friend of my parent’s and my grandfather’s. From South Dakota. We’ll all really close.” He sighed and reached out, picking up the television remote. “He’s really old now. Lives alone. Seventy-something.”

 

Victoria let out a deep breath and began rubbing her stomach, toes curling as the pain in her abdomen increased. She swallowed hard and reached down, letting the warm water run over her hand. She bit down hard on the inside of her lip and squeezed her eyes shut as the contraction continued. She quickly turned off the water and stood up, tears filling her eyes. “Dylan!” she called finally, looking back to the door.

 

“Be right back,” Dylan said, pushing himself up off the couch. He knocked lightly on the door, turning the knob. “What’s going on?” he asked, walking inside.

 

“I don’t feel well,” Victoria replied, walking over to Dylan, wrapping her arms around him. 

 

“Yeah?” Dylan asked. “You’ll be okay, just get into your bath.”

 

Victoria shook her head, leaning against Dylan. “Will you take me to the hospital?” she asked, lifting her head.

 

Dylan nodded slowly before his eyes widened. “Uh wait, what? You’re in labor?”

 

Victoria shrugged. “I don’t know. But they feel like what they said contractions would feel like.” She sniffled and wiped at her eyes, letting Dylan lead her out of the bathroom.

 

“Paul, call my parents, would ya?” Dylan asked. “Where should I tell them to meet us?” he asked, glancing back to Victoria.

 

“The doctor’s,” Victoria replied. “Or-- or here. Here. Soon.”

 

“Sure thing,” Paul nodded, standing up of the couch, going to the phone.

 

Dylan rubbed his eyes, shaking his head. “You’re not due for another two days,” he pointed out.

 

Victoria looked up at Dylan and just sighed, shoulders slumping. “I’m just sore. And I can like, feel it. In me. I think it’s going to come.”

 

Dylan wrapped his arms around Victoria again, kissing her forehead. “It’ll be okay,” he assured her quietly, closing his eyes.

 

“Uh, hello, Mr Winchester,” Paul said, pacing around the kitchen. “This is Paul.”

 

“Hi Paul,” Sam said, glancing back at Dean, who had wrapped his arms around his waist. “What’s going on?”

 

“Um, I think that they’re going to be taking Victoria to the hospital or something soon,” Paul explained. “Dylan wants you guys here now.”

 

Sam looked back at Dean again. “She’s having the baby?” he asked.

 

Paul shrugged. “I don’t-- I mean, I don’t know. Yeah, I guess? That’s what they think anyway. That’s what they’re worried about. He just wants you here. And soon.”

 

Sam nodded, trying to shrug Dean off of him. “We’ll be there as soon as we can,” he said, already on his way to their bedroom, going to change.

 

“Okay,” Paul nodded, turning off his phone. 

 

“She’s having the baby?” Dean repeated, hurrying after Sam. “What?”

 

“Oh, Paul doesn’t know,” Sam snapped, pulling on a pair of clean jeans. “But Dylan and Victoria want us there, so we’re going. Go turn the stove off; I’d like there to actually be a home to come home to.”

 

Dean nodded and walked back into the kitchen, turning everything off, before quickly go back to Sam. “So she’s going to have the baby.”

 

“I don’t know, Dean,” Sam said, pulling on a new shirt. “Yes, I assume so. I don’t know. But we have to get over there, okay?”

 

Dean nodded and grabbed his jacket and car keys, walking with Sam to the front door. “And if they are?”

 

“Then we go to the hospital with them,” Sam replied, jogging down the steps to the driveway, “and we wait there.”

 

“No work?” Dean asked.

 

Sam shook his head quickly, walking around to the passenger side of the car. “No, Dean, no work. Of course not.”

 

Dean climbed into the car and stuck the keys in the ignition, glancing over at Sam before pressing his foot down on the gas, tires squealing as he pulled out of the driveway.

 

“Get us there alive, please, Dean,” Sam snapped, hand digging into the door. “Okay?”

 

“Sure thing,” Dean nodded, giving Sam a quick smile.

 

* * * *

 

“It’s okay, just take tiny steps,” Dylan said softly, squeezing Victoria’s hand in his.

 

Victoria leaned against Dylan, eyes closed, letting him lead her. “How exactly is walking supposed to help labor?” she asked, fingers curling around Dylan’s.

 

“Helps get the baby into position,” Dylan replied, wrapping his other arm around Victoria’s waist. 

 

“Is that true?” Victoria asked, lifting her head.

 

Dylan smiled faintly and shrugged. “I’m not sure, really. I don’t think that it could hurt, though.”

 

“Where are you parents?” Victoria asked, shuffling down the hallway. She stopped walking suddenly and her head fell forward, trying not to cry out.

 

“Okay, contraction,” Dylan said, wrapping both of his arms around Victoria, letting her lean against him. “It’ll be okay, Victoria,” he whispered, brushing her hair away from her eyes. “Just tell me when the contractions get too bad, and I’ll take you back to the room.”

 

Victoria shook her head, tears springing to her eyes. She kept breathing heavily, fingers digging into Dylan, until the contraction passed and she let out her breath. “Let’s go find your parents,” she offered, looking up at him.

 

Dylan nodded and moved his hands back to hers, helping her towards the waiting room. “How much longer, do you think?” he asked, turning the corner.

 

Victoria shrugged, yawning softly. “I have no idea,” she replied, looking over to Sam and Dean. “I just want it over with. This isn’t fun.”

 

“Oh, come here,” Sam said, setting down his magazine, moving over to make room for Victoria. “How you feeling?” he asked gently.

 

Victoria shook her head, wiping at her eyes. “Sore. Scared. Just nervous on the whole, I guess.”

 

“It’ll be okay,” Sam assured her, leaning in to kiss her temple. “It’ll be fine. And it’ll be worth it.”

 

“What are the doctors saying?” Dean asked, looking up at Dylan. “How much longer?”

 

Dylan opened his mouth to reply before Victoria cried out again, face scrunched up, one hand on her stomach and one hand in Sam’s as another contraction began.

 

“Well, her contractions are like, a minute apart,” Dylan replied, “and she’s…dilated eight centimeters.”

 

“She’s close then, right?” Dean asked, looking over to her. “Isn’t ten centimeters when you start to push?”

 

“I think so, yeah,” Dylan nodded. “Are you okay, Victoria?” he asked, crouching down in front of her.

 

Victoria nodded, holding her hand up to her mouth. “I don’t feel well. I think that I’m gonna be sick.”

 

“Okay, let’s get you up then,” Dylan said, wrapping his arms around her, carefully helping her up. “It’ll be okay; just deep breaths and stay calm, ‘kay?”

 

Victoria nodded, sniffling loudly. “Can we go back to my room?” she asked tearfully. “I just wanna be near there if I get sick, or have to start to push or something.”

 

Dylan nodded. “Sure thing.” He turned back to his parents, trying to give them a smile. “I’ll…be back out, if I get the chance. Who knows? Next time you see me I could be a daddy.”

 

Paul walked into the waiting room, coffee cup in hand. “How’s it going?” he asked, walking over to his chair. “Still pregnant?”

 

Victoria nodded, clutching at Dylan’s hand. “Not for long, I hope. I just wanna go push.”

 

“Not yet, Victoria,” Dylan said. “Come on, lets get ya back. Have fun out here waiting guys,” he said, starting off with Victoria, “and thank you.”

 

“Bye,” Victoria said quietly, making it a few feet before her feet stopped and she cried out in pain again. “I wanna go…lay down,” she gritted, squeezing Dylan’s hand tightly.

 

“I know,” Dylan said, nodding to himself. “I know. Just tell me when you’re ready to walk again.”

 

Victoria let out her breath, nodding eagerly. “Let’s go.”

 

“You have to remember to breathe during these things,” Dylan reminded her, helping her down the hall. “You’re supposed to.”

 

“Why don’t you just do this then, Dylan?” Victoria snapped. “If you think you’d be so goddamn good at it!”

 

Dylan swallowed hard and dropped his eyes, glancing back to the waiting room.

 

Dean smiled over at Sam, reaching over to squeeze his leg comfortingly. “At least she’s not screaming,” he pointed out, trying to keep the mood light. “He’s right though.”

 

“About what?” Sam asked, still staring after Dylan and Victoria.

 

“Next time he comes out, there could be a baby,” Dean explained. “Weird to think about. I never saw him with kids.” He looked over at Paul, wondering if it was awkward for him to be hanging out with them.

 

Paul took a drink of his coffee, foot tapping against the floor. “‘Cause of Danny, right?” he asked, glancing over at Sam and Dean.

 

“How much do you know about Danny anyway?” Dean asked.

 

Paul shrugged. “I don’t know. I know that he’s a guy, so…maybe him and Dylan wouldn’t be having kids.” He took another drink. “Never mind, sorry I brought it up.”

 

“Dylan mentioned the godfather thing to us earlier,” Sam said, smiling over at Paul. “That’s really great. It’s good to know that they’ll have people other than family.”

 

Dylan pushed open the door and helped Victoria in, nodding over at the nurse and the doctor. “She’s not feeling very well,” he said, trying to help her up onto the bed.

 

“So you were eight centimeters when you went for your walk,” the doctor said, waiting for Victoria to get onto the bed. “How about I check and see if that’s changed?” he asked.

 

“I just wanna push,” Victoria murmured, looking up at Dylan. “I really do. Please, can’t I just push now?” she looked down at the doctor. 

 

“You’re nine centimeters,” the doctor replied, standing back up. “So not too long now. Not too late for epidural though.”

 

“You want an epidural?” Dylan asked quietly, pulling his chair up to the side of Victoria’s bed.

 

Victoria was breathing heavily as she thought, before shaking her head. “No, no, I don’t. I just wanna start pushing.”

 

“Why don’t you wait until you’re ten centimeters?” the doctor asked. “And the baby actual starts to crown?”

 

Victoria shook her head. “I want it out now. I don’t think that I can do this much longer,” she whined, trying not to cry.

 

Dylan leaned over, kissing her forehead gently. “You know how much a centimeter is, Vic? Not much. You can make it, I promise. And then you can push, I promise.”

 

Victoria’s head lolled around, squeezing her eyes shut. “No, I wanna push now.”

 

“Okay,” Dylan said, pushing himself away from Victoria’s bed. “Well, if you wanna tire yourself out now before it’s actually going to do any good, fine.”

 

The doctor looked over to Dylan, giving him a small smile. “Your parents are here?” he asked, walking over to Dylan.

 

Dylan nodded, rubbing his eyes. “Yeah, in the waiting room. Is that your…are you trying to get me to leave?” he asked.

 

The doctor smiled and shook his head. “No, I’m not. I’m just trying to kill time until we can get the extra centimeter out of her.”

 

Dylan glanced down at Victoria, who had her eyes squeezed shut again. “You have kids?” he asked.

 

“One,” the doctor replied.

 

“Did you deliver them?” Dylan asked.

 

The doctor grinned and shook his head again. “No, I didn’t. One of my colleagues did.”

 

Dylan crossed his arms and nodded, looking back to Victoria. “How much longer does it take?” he asked quietly.

 

“Not much longer,” the doctor replied, glancing up at the clock on his wall. “Congratulations,” he said, nodding.

 

“What?” Dylan asked.

 

“If she gives birth within the next twenty-three hours and fifty-six minutes, you’re having a Valentine’s Day baby,” the doctor explained. “Were you hoping for that, or no?”

 

Dylan shrugged, shaking his head. “I don’t know, really. Hoping that it’d all go well and the baby’d be okay. I didn’t really care about the day.” He reached over, grasping onto Victoria’s hand.

 

Sam yawned softly and leaned against Dean, snuggling into him. “What time is it?” he asked softly, eyeing Paul’s cup of coffee.

 

“Four after twelve,” Dean replied, looking down at his watch.

 

Sam smiled, lifting his head, kissing Dean’s cheek. “Happy Valentine’s Day, lover,” he whispered, nipping at Dean’s ear.

 

Dean grinned and turned, giving Sam a kiss. “Say Paul, you got any special ladies back home?” he asked, looking over at Paul.

 

Paul smiled and shrugged, looking into his cup of coffee. “Lots of ‘em,” he replied, reaching over to hand Sam his drink. “I think that you guys probably need this a lot more than I do.”

 

“Thank you,” Sam said quietly, taking a drink of the coffee. He sighed and groaned softly, handing the cup to Dean. 

 

“Black?” Dean asked, glancing over at Paul.

 

Paul nodded. “Yeah,” he replied.

 

“Nice,” Dean nodded, taking a drink. He moaned softly, eyes fluttering closed, wetting his lips. “God this is good coffee.”

 

“I think that I’d drink anything right now,” Sam muttered, taking the cup back from Dean. He took another drink and leaned against Dean again, letting his eyes close again.

 

* * * *

 

“Oh my god,” Dylan groaned, leaning against the wall. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to cry as Victoria screamed in pain.

 

“Okay, it’s just a bit more,” the doctor prompted, looking up at Victoria. “I can see the top of their head. Just push when you feel that you have to, Victoria.”

 

Dylan’s shoulders began to shake and he bit down on his lip as Victoria’s hand infinitely tightened around his fingers.

 

“I can’t do it anymore,” Victoria said, shaking her head, “I can’t do this. Just get it out of me!”

 

“Just a couple more big pushes,” the doctor said, “maybe one. Come on, I know that you can do this. Push.”

 

Victoria groaned loudly and it soon turned into a scream as she pushed as hard as she could. Her head dropped down onto her pillow and she sighed, breathing heavily. “Dylan,” she said softly, gently pulling on his hand.

 

Dylan swallowed hard and stepped away from the wall, going back to beside Victoria’s bed. “It’s okay, Vic. One more push, you can do it. When you’re ready.”

 

Victoria took a couple of deep shaky breaths, eyes closed, before she nodded again. “Okay,” she said, before she shifted downwards, pushing again.

 

“There you go,” the doctor prompted gently, ready to help the baby out, “there you go. Okay, okay, their head’s out!” he exclaimed.

 

“Thank god,” Dylan muttered, smiling. “It has a head.”

 

“Just one small push,” the doctor said, one hand supporting the baby’s head, the other ready to support the baby’s body as Victoria pushed it out. “Congratulations,” the doctor said, lifting his head. 

 

Victoria lifted her head weakly, looking down at the baby. “What-- what is it?” she asked, closing her eyes as the baby began to cry.

 

“You have a baby girl,” the doctor replied, gently cleaning her off.

 

Dylan’s eyes instantly filled with tears and he sniffled, walking down to the foot of the bed. “I have a baby,” he said softly, reaching out to run his fingers gently over the baby’s head. “I have a daughter,” he said in awe, lips trembling. “Victoria,” he said, walking back up to her. “We have a daughter.”

 

Victoria smiled weakly, swallowing hard. “Can we hold her?” she asked, trying to push herself up.

 

“I have to go find my parents,” Dylan said, slowly making his way back to the door. “Can I-- they have to know.”

 

Victoria nodded understandingly. “Of course, Dylan. We’ll be right here.”

 

Dylan sniffled and leaned down, giving Victoria a quick kiss, looking back up at the baby. He closed his eyes for a moment and walked back to the doctor, leaning down to give her a kiss. “Daddy will be right back,” he promised, straightening back up. He wiped at his nose and hurried out of the room, running down the hallway, stopping once he was at the entrance to the waiting room. “Mom,” he said softly, stepping in.

 

Sam lifted his head and looked back at Dylan, quickly standing up. “Dylan,” he said, nudging Dean.

 

Dean lifted his head and stood up, looking over at Dylan. “Dylan,” he said, walking over to him. “What’s going on?” he asked, clasping onto Dylan’s shoulders.

 

Paul groaned softly and woke up, glancing back. He smiled and slowly stood up, standing by his seat.

 

“Are you okay?” Sam asked quietly. “Is Victoria okay? Is the baby--”

 

Dylan nodded eagerly, looking up at his parents. “I have a baby,” he said finally, sniffling and smiling. “And I…I have a baby.”

 

Dean swallowed hard, waiting for Dylan to continue. “And?” he asked.

 

“I have a daughter,” Dylan corrected. “It’s a girl.”

 

“Oh my god,” Sam said softly, pulling Dylan in for a hug. “Oh my god, Dylan,” he whispered, kissing Dylan’s cheek.

 

“Maybe you should be with her right now,” Dean suggested gently.

 

Dylan sniffled and nodded. “I’ll bring her out. They’ll let me, if she’s okay.”

 

“What’s her name?” Sam asked quietly.

 

Dylan shook her head. “She doesn’t have one yet. But I have an idea.” He grinned at Sam and Dean, looking past them to wave at Paul. “It’s a girl!” he called over at him.

 

Paul grinned and nodded. “Yeah, I heard,” he said. “Congratulations.”

 

“I should go back,” Dylan said, not really wanting to leave his parents. “I…I’ll be back. With her.”

 

“Take your time,” Dean said softly. “But we can’t wait to meet her.”

 

Dylan nodded eagerly and turned back around, grinning to himself as he made his way back to the room. He walked in, looking down at Victoria. “Sorry. I just…what’d I miss?”

 

“One twenty-eight,” Victoria replied. “I can’t help but feel we should name her Valentine.”

 

Dylan grinned, walking over to the baby, who they were now weighing. “No way, Victoria.” He reached down, gently stroking the baby’s face with his finger.

 

“Six pounds, ten ounces,” the nurse said, looking up.

 

“Wow, d’ya hear that?” Dylan asked quietly, trying to get the baby to wrap her tiny fingers around one of his. “Six pounds. You’re such a beautiful little girl, aren’t you?”

 

The nurse began wrapping the baby up in a pink blanket, smiling up at Dylan. “Here you go,” she said softly, carefully handing the bundle over to Dylan.

 

Dylan swallowed hard, tears falling down his cheeks. “You’re perfect,” he said, slowly walking over to the bed. He sat down gently, smiling. “I love you.” He looked over at Victoria. “What are you naming her?” he asked.

 

Victoria reached out, moving the blanket away from the baby’s face. “We’re naming her, Dylan,” she corrected. “Elisabeth.”

 

Dylan swallowed hard, nodding to himself. “I know that it might not make much sense, but there’s something that I think she should be named.”

 

* * * *

 

“Look at the little pink blanket,” Dean said, watching Dylan as he slowly walked over to them. “There’s a baby in there, Sam.”

 

Sam nodded slowly, tears filling his eyes. “We’re grandparents,” he said softly, squeezing Dean’s hand in his.

 

Paul let out a deep breath, giving Dylan a small wave. “Don’t forget to show her to the godfather, now.”

 

Dylan sat down between his parents, moving the blanket away from the baby’s face. “Say hi,” he whispered, “say hi.”

 

“She’s beautiful, Dyl,” Sam said quietly, shifting to get a better look.

 

“Hunter, say hi to your grandparents,” Dylan said, shifting her in his arms.

 

Dean swallowed hard and looked up at Sam. “You named her Hunter?” he asked, amused.

 

Dylan nodded. “Her name is Hunter Elisabeth.”

 

“I think that’s a gorgeous name, Dylan,” Sam assured him. “And what a gorgeous baby to go along with it.” He smiled, quickly look over at Paul. “Look at those lips. Winchester lips.”

 

Dean grinned over at Sam. “You’ve been kissing those lips for twenty-three years.”

 

Dylan smiled and rolled his eyes, leaning down to kiss Hunter’s forehead. “Is it an okay name?” he asked, looking back up. “I checked earlier, it’s a girl’s name too. I just wanted to name her after my family.”

 

“I think it’s very pretty,” Sam said softly, smiling at the baby. “Hunter Elisabeth. It’s nice.”

 

Dylan beamed proudly. “Okay Hunter, it’s time for you to meet your grandparents,” he said, shifting her in his arms. “Who do you want to hold you first?” he asked.

 

Dean looked over at Sam, nodding once. “I held Dylan first,” he explained.

 

Sam grinned as Dylan carefully handed her over.

 

“This is your Grandpa,” Dylan said softly, letting his hands drop from Hunter.

 

Sam grinned and sniffled, leaning down to kiss the baby. “Hi, Hunter,” he said, smiling against her soft forehead. “I love you so much.”

 

“Where’d Victoria get Elisabeth from?” Dean asked, wrapping his arm around Dylan’s shoulders.

 

“I’m not sure,” Dylan admitted, watching Sam with the baby. “But it’s pretty. With an S, instead of a Z.”

 

“What’s Victoria’s opinion on Hunter?” Dean asked.

 

Dylan sighed and leaned against Dean, looking up when Paul walked over to them, sitting down on the floor in front of them. “I think she likes it,” he replied, smiling at Paul. “What do you think?” he asked.

 

“I think it’s nice,” Paul smiled, smiling up at Sam.

 

“You’re my granddaughter,” Sam said, holding her close, “I can’t wait to watch you grow up. You’re going to be perfect. You already are.” He sniffled and lifted his head, shifting closing to Dylan to hand her back.

 

“My turn,” Dean said eagerly, holding out his arms. “If he’s Grandpa, what am I?” he asked.

 

“You’re her grampie,” Dylan replied, gently handing the baby over.

 

Dean swallowed hard, never taking his eyes off of Hunter, holding her close. “I don’t think I’ve ever gotten a better Valentine’s Day gift,” he whispered, eyes opening in awe as she stirred just a little in his arms. “I love you.”

 

“Tell us about her,” Paul prompted. “How much does she weigh and all that?”

 

“Six pounds and ten ounces,” Dylan replied, squeezing his hands between his knees. “Born at one twenty-eight am, February fourteenth.” He looked up at his parents. “I can’t believe she’s a Valentine’s baby.”

 

“I think it’s sweet,” Sam replied. “And I think she’s perfect, and I’m so happy for both of you.”

 

Dean swallowed hard, not wanting to let his granddaughter go, but he leaned down anyway, handing her off to Paul. “I think that Mom and Dad would’ve loved her,” he said, eyes filling with tears.

 

Dylan looked up, wetting his lips. “If she was a boy, I was going to name her John. After him. I told him, before he died, that I’d tell my family all about him.” He sniffled and dropped his head forward. “I can’t believe I’m a dad,” he said softly, shaking his head.

 

Paul carefully shifted Hunter in his arms, holding her up a little. “I’m a godfather,” he said in awe, looking up with his eyes wide.

 

Dean laughed softly, leaning in to kiss Dylan’s temple gently. He smiled, looking over at Sam, who was watching Hunter, a faint smile on his face.

 

* * * *

 

“Thank you for coming,” Dylan said softly, squeezing Paul in his hug. “Are you sure that you don’t want a drive?”

 

Paul pulled back and shook his head. “No, a cab is fine. I’m not going to make anybody in this apartment leave that baby girl.” He looked over Dylan’s shoulder, smiling and nodding at Dean and Sam. “I’ll go back and show everybody pictures of the adorable baby.”

 

“Thanks for coming,” Dylan said again, reaching down to pick up Paul’s bag, handing it to him. “Have a safe flight.”

 

Paul grinned and nodded, giving Dylan a wave before walking out of the apartment, going down the hall.

 

Dylan sighed and closed the door, yawning softly as he walked back into the apartment. He smiled at Victoria, going into the living room, sitting down on the armrest of her chair, leaning down to give her a kiss. “You feeling okay?” he asked softly.

 

Victoria nodded as she yawned, stretching her arms above her head. “Just tired,” she replied, head dropping to the side, watching Hunter on the couch with Sam and Dean. “Very tired,” she murmured.

 

Dylan nodded understandingly and stayed with her a few moments longer before walking over to the couch, sitting down on the floor in front of the couch. “You okay with her?” he asked Dean.

 

Dean snorted and rolled his eyes, gently tracing Hunter’s lips with the tip of his finger. “Not the first baby I’ve held,” he muttered, instantly grinning when Hunter stirred, tiny fists clenching. 

 

Sam smiled and leaned against Dean, looking down at his granddaughter, cheeks starting to hurt from all the smiling. “I think that I know what to do with this one,” he said quietly, leaning down to kiss Hunter’s forehead, grinning when her eyes slowly opened, blinking a couple of times. “Hi,” he whispered, waggling his fingers down at her.

 

Hunter just blinked, staring up at them, before she began to wiggle in Dean’s arms. 

 

“Let’s give you back to Daddy,” Dean said, leaning down to slowly hand Hunter over to Dylan. 

 

Dylan smiled and held Hunter up to his chest, slowly rubbing her back. He turned his head, gently kissing her rosy cheek. He took a deep breath, moving one of his hands up to carefully run his fingers over her soft hair, looking over to Victoria, who just smiled weakly, yawning again.


	40. Chapter 39

Title: Look What Love Has Done - Volume 3 - Chapter 39

Pairing: Sam/Dean

Disclaimer: Not mine

Rating: PG-13 this chapter

Summary: Dylan and Victoria have to work to take care of their daughter.

Author's Note: Forget volume one, forget volume two; this is volume three 

 

twenty-one years, ten months and twenty-three days old

 

“Shh, shh,” Dylan whispered, pacing around the nursery. “It’s okay, Libby, just stop crying, okay?” He kissed her cheek, bouncing her up and down gently, eyes closed. “Shh, shh. It’s okay.”

 

Hunter continued wailing into Dylan’s chest, tiny feet kicking as best they could. 

 

“We don’t wanna wake Mommy up now, do we?” Dylan asked, humming to her softly as he sat down in the chair in the nursery, yawning softly as he settled in. “Do you not like that nickname?” he asked quietly, rocking Hunter back and forth gently. “It was Grandpa’s idea.” He held Hunter up to his chest again, gently rubbing her back. “Maybe just Hunter for now, okay?” he asked.

 

Hunter’s head turned to the side and her eyes blinked a couple of times as she watched her fingers grab onto Dylan’s t-shirt. 

 

Dylan smiled and began rocking back and forth in the chair, one hand behind Hunter’s head, the other slid under her bottom. “See, calling you that makes you stop crying.” He kissed the top of her head, inhaling the scent of baby powder. “Are you gonna go back to sleep now then?” he asked.

 

Hunter made a soft sound and tried to look up at Dylan, who was standing back up.

 

“Okay, baby girl,” Dylan said, “back to bed.” He walked over to the crib, leaning in to carefully lay her back down. “Goodnight,” he whispered, smiling at her. He blew a kiss and slowly stepped back from the crib, walking out of the nursery. He almost made it back to his bedroom before Hunter’s crying began to fill the apartment again. He sighed and groaned softly, turning back around.

 

“I’ll get her,” Victoria said tiredly, appearing in the doorway. “Go back to bed.”

 

Dylan smiled thankfully and leaned in, kissing her cheek as he walked by her, going back to bed.

 

Victoria pushed her hair away from her eyes and pushed up the sleeves on her robe, leaning into the crib to lift Hunter out. “What’s going on, Babeth?” she asked, looking around the nursery before going over to the chair, slowly sitting down. “You okay? Do you feel okay?”

 

Hunter’s red reddened and her hands clenched into fists up by her face, still crying loudly.

 

Dylan climbed back into bed, dropping down onto the mattress, closing his eyes before his head even hit the pillow.

 

* * * *

 

Dylan yawned loudly as he slowly brought his spoon up to his mouth, jaw simply dropping open to let it in. “Tired,” he muttered, head beginning to drop forward before Dean reached over, squeezing his shoulder. “Sorry!” he said, lifting his head back up.

 

“You need coffee,” Dean said, pushing his mug over to Dylan. “Lots of it.”

 

Dylan stared at the mug, wanting to push it back before he finally reached out, picking it up. He took a long drink, moaning as he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “That’s good.” he muttered, taking another drink.

 

Victoria dropped down into her chair, blowing her hair out of her eyes as she looked over at Dylan and Dean. She gave them both a weak smile, looking down at Hunter, shifting the bottle in her mouth.

 

“You want me to take her?” Dean offered. “I love feeding her.”

 

“I have to take a bath,” Victoria said, standing up just enough to hand the baby over to Dean. “Is that okay?”

 

Dean nodded eagerly, smiling at Hunter. “It’s fine, Victoria,” he assured her, shifting Hunter in his arms, trying to get her more comfortable, “how long’s it been?”

 

Victoria smiled and shook her head, pushing her chair back from the table. “Too long,” she replied, walking off towards the bathroom.

 

Dean stuck his tongue out at Hunter, crossing his eyes. “Hello,” he said softly, “hello. How’s my little girl? Are you good?” he asked her, watching her suck on the bottle.

 

Dylan nodded slowly, taking another bite of his oatmeal. “The doctor thinks she has colic or something. But I think her only symptom is crying.”

 

Dean smiled sympathetically, leaning over to quickly kiss Dylan’s cheek. “Sorry ‘bout that. She doesn’t sleep?”

 

Dylan shrugged. “I don’t know,” he replied. “Yeah, she does. She just wakes up. Then wakes us up. We’re taking her back to the doctor, I think, to check on the colic. He’s going to tell us what to do.” He rubbed at his eyes, closing them for a moment. 

 

“If you need me or Sam to help out,” Dean began, “don’t hesitate to ask. ‘Cause we love taking care of our little girl.” He slipped the bottle out of Hunter’s mouth and held her up against his chest, gently patting her back. “We can take her to the doctor.”

 

Dylan pushed his hair off his forehead and shook his head. “No, that’s fine. She likes the rocking chair, I think. And when we actually call her Hunter.”

 

“Aw, no cute nicknames?” Dean asked in disappointment. “Man, that sucks. I was all ready for Dill Pickle version two point oh.” He frowned, but that instantly disappeared when he looked back at Hunter, letting her tiny fingers wrap around one of his. “I love her,” he whispered, kissing her head.

 

Dylan smiled weakly, taking another bite of his breakfast. “Where’s Mommy?” he asked, reaching out for the coffee.

 

“Victoria or Sam?” Dean asked, moving Hunter down into his arms, cradling her to his body. 

 

“My mommy,” Dylan replied.

 

“Getting me breakfast before we have to go to work,” Dean replied, glancing up at Dylan. “Oh…yeah. I probably should’ve told you that you don’t have to eat that oatmeal.”

 

“I like my oatmeal,” Dylan muttered. “Victoria made it for me.”

 

Dean reached out and picked up Hunter’s bottle, trying to study what was left inside. “Is this formula, or breast milk?” he asked, looking at Dylan.

 

“What?” Dylan asked. “Oh, uh, breast milk. Victoria doesn’t like the idea of Hunter actually attached to her for feeding.” He scratched at his neck, closing his eyes for a moment. “I think that I’m-- that I’m so tired, that I’ve gone all the way around to awake again,” he said quietly.

 

“Hey,” Dean said, “keep your eyes open. A kid around, you never know what you could miss.”

 

Dylan sighed but his eyes slowly opened anyway, looking down at Hunter, and it was hard not to smile. “I just…can’t she be cute while she’s asleep?” he asked. “‘Cause I think that that would just be better for everybody.”

 

Dean smiled and shook his head. “If it was easy, it wouldn’t be as worth it when she becomes a functioning member of society. You get to know that you helped her become that.”

 

“Can I see her?” Dylan asked, dropping his spoon into his bowl. He reached out, moving his hand behind Hunter’s head, making sure he had that supported before he took her out of Dean’s arms, cradling her. He reached back out, picking up his spoon, swirling his oatmeal around the bowl. He took a quick bite, nodding as he looked down at Hunter. “Okay, so what are we going to do today, Hunt?” he asked.

 

Hunter made a face in Dylan’s arms, fists up by her face.

 

“Hunter,” Dean corrected, teasing Dylan. “And maybe I’ll have to come here on my lunch and help take care of my granddaughter.” He smiled and reached out, running his finger over Hunter’s cheek, eyes filling with tears. “My granddaughter,” he repeated, looking up at Dylan. “Wow.”

 

“I feel ya,” Dylan murmured in agreement, arm getting tired so he shifted to hold Hunter up to his chest, making sure that she turned her head. He tilted his head and kissed the top of her, lips brushing against the downy hair. “When you gonna get rid of those baby blues?” he asked Hunter, smiling when she made a noise. “When you gonna get the Winchester greens?” he continued.

 

Dean smiled and pushed his chair back, going to make a new cup of coffee for both of them. “I could deal with the browns. Hazels.”

 

Dylan nodded. “Yeah. But blues…” he shook his head slowly, “that’s just so not us.”

 

“Well yeah, now that the inbreeding’s over,” Dean began, leaning back to make sure Victoria was in fact, still in the bathroom, “you have to learn to deal with somebody else’s genes,” he pointed out, going to the refrigerator for milk. 

 

Dylan yawned again and slowly stood up from his chair, shifting Hunter to the other side of his chest. “Let’s go get ya changed for when Grandpa shows up,” he said, smiling at Dean as he walked by him on the way to the nursery. “Dress ya up all pretty.”

 

“Winchesters are not pretty, Dylan,” Dean said, walking a few steps after him. “Except for me. You got that?”

 

Dylan laughed softly and nodded, quickly waving his hand behind him. “I have to dress ya pretty, Hunter. Especially with such a tough name.” He smiled and laid Hunter down in her crib, going over to grab a new sleeper for her.

 

Hunter began trying to rock back and forth on her back, reaching out to try and grab onto the crib, waiting for Dylan to walk back over to her.

 

“Are you lonely yet?” Dylan asked, lifting her back out of the crib. “It’s a wonder baby’s don’t get motion sickness, getting passed around all the time.” He walked over to her changing table, setting her down carefully, making sure that she was away from the edges. He kept one hand on her stomach as he unfolded her sleeper, going to get her out of the clothes she had on.

 

“What’s going on?” Sam asked, grinning as he walked into the apartment. “Hey lover,” he said, going over to give Dean a kiss. “Where’s Dyl?”

 

“Changing Hunt,” Dean replied, pouring two mugs of coffee, “for her grandpa.”

 

“Aww, I still love the sound of that,” Sam grinned, trying not to squeal as he set their breakfast down on the counter. “I’m a grandpa now. I have a male name!”

 

Dean grinned and shook his head, giving Sam another kiss. “So what’d you get me for breakfast?” he asked, glancing down at the bag.

 

“McDonald’s,” Sam replied, picking up the bag and walking it over to the dinner table. “It was on the way, and we love it, so…” He pulled out his chair, sitting down, opening the bag. “Where’s Victoria?” he asked.

 

“She is taking a bath,” Dean replied, sitting down beside Sam, waiting for him to get out their food. “Or a shower. Or something. Either way, it’s been too damn long.”

 

Sam sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. “I remember back to when we hardly had time to clean. Those were the days.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes and unwrapped his bagel, taking a drink of his coffee before talking a large bite, eyes fluttering closed as he groaned softly. “Oh, that’s good,” he said, mouth full of food.

 

Sam lifted his head, grinning. “Oh, there she is!” he exclaimed, waving at Hunter in Dylan’s arms. “Wow, aren’t you pretty today, Hunter?” 

 

“She’s always pretty for her grandfathers,” Dylan smiled, sitting down, lightly grasping onto Hunter’s wrist to make her wave. “And after you finish eating, you can hold her.”

 

“Why can’t I hold her now?” Sam asked, glancing down at his food. “I haven’t touched the McDonald’s grease yet.”

 

Dylan grinned, shaking his head. “Don’t worry Mom, I was only half-joking,” he replied, moving a bit closer to carefully hand Hunter over to Sam. “Can you guys excuse me for a second?” he asked, standing back up. “I gotta go make our bed.”

 

“Why?” Dean asked, looking up at Dylan. “You’re just going to make it messy again tonight.”

 

Dylan shrugged. “I don’t know. It helps kill the time until you guys leave. After that I have to start taking real care of her again and well, no cleaning gets done then.”

 

Dean raised an eyebrow, slowly looking over at Sam. “Okay well, the OCD is apparently genetic. Well, that’s fun.”

 

“If it was genetic Dean, don’t you think that we’d both have it?” Sam pointed out, shaking his finger in Hunter’s tight grip.

 

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m fifty, gimme a break. High school biology was more than thirty years ago.” He took another bite of his bagel, smiling when he realized the sauce had gotten all over his mouth. He grinned and stuck his tongue out at Hunter, leaning down to make a face at her. 

 

“Who’s dat?” Sam asked gently. “Who’s dat? Is that Grampie? Is that your grampie, Hunter?” he asked.

 

Hunter watched Dean in wonder, reaching out with the hand that was wrapped around Sam’s finger, making a small face when Dean opened his mouth around her finger.

 

Sam smiled and reached out, grabbing a napkin for Dean. “Clean off Dean, that special sauce is very obscene all over your face.”

 

Dean grinned and swiped his finger through the sauce, reaching out to smudge it across Sam’s lips. “Now it’s very obscene,” he teased, leaning in to give Sam a kiss, licking the sauce off of Sam’s mouth.

 

“Dean,” Sam said quietly, looking down into his arms, “not now. We have a baby.”

 

“You do realize she’s not ours, right?” Dean asked, pulling back.

 

Sam sighed dreamily and smiled, lifting Hunter up just a bit, making sure her head was okay as he looked at her. “Love you,” he said, leaning in to give her a kiss on her stomach. He grinned up at her, moving to hold her against his chest, reaching out for his food, keeping Hunter against him with one arm.

 

Dean shifted in his seat, leaning up to give Hunter a kiss. “How you doing, baby girl?” he reached, running his fingers over the back of her head. “Keeping Daddy and Mommy awake, huh?”

 

“Still?” Sam asked, mouth full of food. “Geez, colic much?”

 

“That’s what the doctor said,” Dean replied, taking a sip of his coffee. “Lots of yawning going on here.”

 

Sam smiled and nodded understandingly, shifting Hunter against him, swallowing hard. “She’s cute though, completely makes up for it.”

 

Dean laughed as he pushed his chair back from the table, going over to the refrigerator.

 

“Dean,” Sam said, “what could you possibly need in there? I just brought you breakfast.”

 

“I just wanna see what they’re eating,” Dean explained, leaning down.

 

“Out of the fridge, Dad,” Dylan said, walking back out of the bedroom, “you already have food.” He kissed the top of Sam’s head as he walked by.

 

Sam grinned, watching Dylan pull up a chair beside him, gently rubbing his cheek against the side of Hunter’s head, giving her a small peck. “So what are you three doing today?” he asked, reaching out for his food.

 

Dylan shrugged and cracked his neck from side to side, rubbing his eyes. “I’m not sure,” he replied. “But if one of you guys wants to take her and let me and Victoria get some sleep…” he grinned weakly, “I wouldn’t object.”

 

“Dean, who did we have to help us take care of Dylan again?” Sam asked, smiling as he turned to Dean.

 

“Gee, Sam, I don’t know,” Dean said, cocking his head to the side. “Couldn’t be Dad, ‘cause he left before Dylan was even a month old. Hmm. Is it possible…that we only had ourselves?”

 

“I think I get the point,” Dylan said flatly.

 

Sam smiled and looked back at Dylan. “Plus we work. We can take her on the weekend, when we don’t have to get up early in the morning.”

 

“Thank you,” Dylan muttered, shifting to rest his head on the table. “Means a lot.”

 

Sam smiled again and held Hunter up to his chest with both hands, leaning forward to kiss Dylan’s forehead. “How about when Victoria gets out of the bath, we’ll help her watch Hunter long enough for you to get a shower?” he offered.

 

Dylan smiled faintly, nodding. “Yeah, that sounds good.” He groaned softly and stood up, going into the living room, just to drop down on the couch, snuggling into the pillows.

 

Dean smiled and looked at Hunter, sticking his tongue out. “You sleepy yet?” he asked quietly. “Winchesters are known for their sleeping abilities.”

 

Sam snorted and chuckled, shaking his head. “She’s up now, she’s all fed and pretty. What do your parents do with you, Hunter? Do you got any toys around here?”

 

“Rocking chair and a book,” Dylan replied. “She loves it.”

 

“Aww, that’s good,” Sam said quietly, cradling Hunter, reaching out for his food again. “I like raising readers.”

 

Dean stared at Sam for a moment before he just shook his head. “You sound like a government program.” He looked over at the counter, nodding once. “Forgot to get your coffee, Dyl,” he said, turning in his seat.

 

“Ugh,” Dylan groaned, pushing himself back up, going into the kitchen. He grabbed onto the mug, dropping back into his seat at the table. “Thanks, Dad,” he murmured, taking a large drink, eyes closing.

 

Dean reached over, clasping onto Dylan’s shoulder. “Not a problem,” he assured him, shoving the rest of the food into his mouth.

 

Victoria sighed as she walked out of the bathroom, working a towel through her hair, wringing out the water. “Hi, Sam,” she said softly, going into the kitchen.

 

“Morning,” Sam nodded, leaning down to play with Hunter’s bottom lip with his finger, giving her a kiss. “You wanna go have your shower now, Dyl?” he asked.

 

Dylan quickly gulped down the rest of his coffee, making a face as he set the mug down, standing up. “Yeah, I’ll just be a bit,” he said, making his way down to the bathroom.

 

“We’re just gonna stay until he’s done, ‘kay?” Dean asked, looking up at Victoria who was pouring a bowl of cereal.

 

“Of course,” Victoria muttered, grabbing onto her bowl and the whole box as she took her seat at the table, “all the help we can get.”

 

“Heard about the crying,” Sam said apologetically. “Rough.”

 

Victoria shoved the spoon into her mouth, pushing her wet hair away from her face. “I don’t remember my little brother ever crying. It…gets under your skin, at times.” She chewed thoughtfully, waggling her fingers over at Hunter.

 

“You wanna hold her?” Sam offered, ready to push himself up out of his seat.

 

Victoria shook her head quickly, swallowing down her food. “No, no, not yet. I mean, can I eat first?” she asked.

 

“Of course,” Sam replied, pulling his chair in closer to the table, rubbing his stomach gently. “I’m all full, Hunter. All my food’s in here now. Where’s your food, baby?” He smiled and made a face, letting Hunter grab onto his shirt, leaning down just a bit.

 

* * * *

 

Victoria groaned softly and huffed, blowing her bangs out of her eyes as she slowly walked down the aisle, leaning heavily on the grocery cart. She reached out, letting her fingers gently drum on Hunter’s leg, who was sitting in her car seat in the cart. “How you doing?” she asked quietly, trying to give her daughter a smile. “You tired too?”

 

Hunter looked away from Victoria, feet kicking and she made a small noise, tongue coming out. Her head rolled around a bit and she looked back up at Victoria, dark eyes wide.

 

“Yeah,” Victoria breathed, looking back when Dylan came running up to them. “How many diapers do you think she’ll need?” she asked, watching Dylan dumped the packages into the cart.

 

“She’s less than a month old,” Dylan pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

 

Victoria sighed and nodded slowly. “Yeah, good point.”

 

Dylan gave her a weak smile and reached out, covering Victoria’s hand with his on the cart handle. “You feeling okay?” he asked, walking alongside her.

 

Victoria nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she assured him quietly, “just tired.”

 

Dylan smiled and gave her a peck on the cheek, looking down at Hunter. “And how’s my other girl?” he asked, reaching out to shake her hand gently. “You’re just perfect, aren’t ya?”

 

Hunter looked over at Dylan, blinking a couple of times, watching him in as much wonder as someone her age could.

 

“Do you know who I am?” Dylan asked gently, stopping when Victoria stopped pushing the cart. “Do ya? Have you figured out yet who we are? How important we are to you?”

 

Victoria swallowed, reaching up to scratch at her eyes, walking back to the cart. “I hope she does. I remember reading once that baby’s can recognize their names within the first month. Maybe it’s the same for parents.”

 

“But she probably doesn’t even know what parents are,” Dylan pointed out, pushing the cart again. “She was like, in you--”

 

“Yes, I know, Dylan,” Victoria interrupted, carefully setting the food in the cart.

 

“And then she was out, in the world,” Dylan continued, “with people holding her and changing her and dressing her and…it’s kind of weird, how she’s not going to remember any of this.”

 

“Is it?” Victoria asked. “I mean, we don’t remember ourselves at that age either. Nobody does.”

 

Dylan shrugged. “Whatever, I don’t know. What do we do when she doesn’t need us anymore?” he asked.

 

Victoria rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I don’t know, Dylan!” she snapped. “God, we do what every other parent on the world does, we move on.” She sighed and began pushing the cart again, looking around at the food.

 

Dylan opened his mouth to speak, but just shook his head in disbelief instead. “My parents are going to take her tomorrow night, if we want. I don’t know.”

 

“I need to sleep in,” Victoria replied, braid swinging as she leaned down to get something off one of the lower shelves. “That would be great right now.” Almost on cue, she yawned loudly and stretched her arms above her head, fixing the hem of her t-shirt when she was done.

 

Dylan nodded slowly, finding it increasingly harder not to smile whenever he looked at Hunter. He grinned and dropped his eyes, wanting to just run over and pick her up. “Yeah, I know what you mean,” he replied, even though as much as he complained about lack of sleep, was nervous about Hunter spending the night away from them. “I might go with her,” he said finally, looking over at Victoria.

 

Victoria frowned and glanced back at Dylan. “You don’t wanna spend the night with me, get some sleep?” she asked.

 

Dylan shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ll see what Mom and Dad are going to do with her.” He dropped his eyes, watching his feet as he followed behind Victoria. “Is your uh, your oldest brother flying out soon?” he asked. “Blake?”

 

“Him and Hannah have to find somebody to watch Everett,” Victoria replied. “And it’s hard for him to leave his job for that long.”

 

“They live in Austin,” Dylan pointed out. “How long could a flight from there to here take?” he asked.

 

Victoria shrugged. “I’m not sure. If we had decided to live somewhere near my family, we wouldn’t be having this issue.”

 

“Except my family can’t afford to fly out to New Hampshire or Texas every time they want to see Hunter,” Dylan replied. “How can that be fair? And I still wanna take her to Kansas sometime.”

 

“She is far too young to be flying halfway across the country,” Victoria said. “Completely inconvenient.”

 

“Who cares about inconvenience?” Dylan asked. “I want her to meet--”

 

“She can’t meet them, Dylan,” Victoria interrupted gently.

 

“If you bring up the fact that they’re dead again,” Dylan said, “well…I’m not having that conversation again, Victoria. It means something to me, it’s important. It’s who she is.”

 

“Well, maybe we should wait until she’s old enough for it to mean something to her,” Victoria suggested. “When she understands the names on the gravestones. You just said she doesn’t know who we are, what’s taking her to a graveyard going to do?”

 

“It’s not just a graveyard, Victoria,” Dylan said, “my parents began their lives their. That’s where the Winchesters are from, Lawrence, Kansas.”

 

“When are we taking her to New Hampshire, or Massachusetts?” Victoria asked pointedly. 

 

Dylan sighed and shook his head, directing the cart up to the cashier. “Never mind, Victoria, you just…don’t get it, I guess.” He began lifting things out of the cart, giving the cashier a quick nod. 

 

“Did you find everything okay?” the cashier asked, starting to scan the items through.

 

“Yes, thank you,” Dylan replied, crossing his eyes at Hunter, reaching down to rest his hand on her stomach, giving her a smile. “Although, we did find this baby in aisle three,” he joked, laughing softly at the look on the cashier’s face.

 

* * * *

 

Sam hummed to himself as he dusted Dylan’s room, moving things off of his empty dresser and old desk to dust around them. He smiled as he looked around the room, trying to remember what it looked like when Dylan’s things were actually in it. 

 

“Oh god,” Dean muttered, leaning against the doorframe, “you’re cleaning.”

 

“She could be allergic to dogs,” Sam pointed out, “or dust, and we wouldn’t even know. If she’s sleeping in here, I want it to be clean.”

 

“You don’t think that she should sleep with us?” Dean asked, pushing himself up, walking into the room. 

 

Sam shrugged. “Well, maybe Dylan or Victoria wants to stay here with us. The room should be clean for them.”

 

“Maybe you’re a clean freak,” Dean remarked, resisting the urge to just wrap his arms around Sam. “‘Cause I think that that one’s more likely. You’re bored.”

 

“You were watching television,” Sam said, “and I needed something to do. And you’re going to have to put Dylan’s old crib back together.”

 

Dean groaned loudly. “Sam, I could hardly put that thing together the first time I did it. Come on, that thing’s old school now.”

 

“Just do it please,” Sam said, scratching his neck. “Or we’ll have to sleep with a baby between us for the night. You won’t be getting away with any of that ‘three pillows, all the sheets’ thing that you’ve got going on now.”

 

“Okay, so I’ll put the ole crib together,” Dean agreed finally, looking up at Sam. “Are you going to help me?”

 

“I’m cleaning,” Sam smiled, cocking his head to the side.

 

“I’ll go try and find it then,” Dean replied, turning around and walking down the hallway. “Closet?” he called back down towards the room.

 

“I assume so,” Sam replied, continuing on around the room. He scratched as his neck and walked over to Dylan’s old toy chest, kneeling down in front of it, pushing up the top. He smile as he began rooting through it, pulling out any toys that Sam thought might be appropriate for Hunter, at least in the next little while. He grinned as he pulled out Dylan’s old stuffed animals, running his fingers over the stained fur of the giraffe and elephant and dinosaur.

 

Dean sat down in front of the open closet and began pushing shoes and old jackets out of the way, hoping to see a flash of familiar wood. He groaned and cocked his head to the side, pushing himself up a little. “That damn thing better be in here,” he muttered, finally finding the box they had put the pieces of the crib in and he stood up, shoving items on hangers out of the way so he could start to lift the box out. “You sure you want it down in his room?” he asked, struggling to carry the box down towards Dylan’s room.

 

Sam smiled and stood up, walking out of the room. “Is that ‘cause you can’t carry it?” he asked.

 

“Well, I just think that maybe she would be better off in our room, or the living room,” Dean said, setting the box down. “Dylan’s room’s a lot further away from ours than her nursery is from Dyl and Victoria.”

 

“Put it wherever you want,” Sam replied, shrugging. “I found some of Dyl’s old toys, his stuffed animals.”

 

“Yeah?” Dean asked, opening the box. “You gonna give ‘em to Hunter or something?”

 

Sam smiled. “Well, if Dylan doesn’t want them back,” he joked. He sighed, watching Dean pull the pieces out of the box. “Do you want any help with that?” he asked finally.

 

Dean grinned and looked up at him, nodding. “If you can tear yourself away from your cleaning,” he said, emptying out the rest of the box. 

 

“Do we still have the instructions?” Sam asked, studying the pieces as he sat down on the floor.

 

“Uh…” Dean stuck his head in the box, “yep. Maybe.” He pulled out a faded piece of paper, handing it to Sam. “Real men don’t need instructions,” he said.

 

“Real men don’t want their granddaughters to get hurt because they put a crib together wrong,” Sam muttered, patting his pocket for his glasses. He sighed and pushed himself up, grabbing them off the coffee table, slipping them on.

 

“You know, I love Hunter,” Dean said. 

 

Sam smiled as he sat back down. “Good. I’m glad to hear it.”

 

“And I would’ve loved a boy,” Dean continued, “because you know, you just do, but I think now that she’s a girl, I can say that I’m happy she’s a girl.”

 

“Yeah?” Sam asked, reaching out for the first piece.

 

Dean nodded. “I think the Winchester family needed a feminine side. Other than yours, of course.”

 

Sam glared at Dean, pushing himself up as he began to put pieces together. “And who was it exactly that cried at--”

 

“Hey, hey,” Dean interrupted, “we’re not playing that, Sammy. I’m just saying, I think it’s great that we have a granddaughter. And it makes me feel important again. When Dylan went off to school, he didn’t need us anymore. But now…now there’s something for us again. Somebody else to teach, and take care of.” He sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know,” he mumbled.

 

Sam smiled and reached out for Dean, clasping onto his hand. “You can teach me whatever you want,” he said softly, wetting his lips.

 

Dean’s eyes widened and he looked up at Sam in surprise, a smile quickly gracing his features. “What type of teaching are we talking about here, Sammy?” he asked, slowly moving up onto his knees, then leaning forward on all fours.

 

Sam grinned and reached out, cupping Dean’s cheeks to pull in him for a kiss, moving on his knees to get closer to him, nipping at Dean’s lips. He grinned against Dean’s mouth, and reached down, picking up the crib instructions.

 

Dean frowned and looked down at the paper. “Uh, Sam?”

 

Sam smiled, kissing Dean again. “Insert tab A into slot B,” he teased, pulling back to look Dean in the eyes.

 

“Whoa oh, punny,” Dean said, trying not to laugh in Sam’s face. “But okay, I take you up on your offer.”

 

“Good,” Sam replied, reaching out to grab onto another piece of the disassembled crib.

 

“Uh, not now?” Dean asked, watching Sam go back to putting the crib together.

 

“Nope,” Sam said, shaking his head. “Once we’re done here and we’ve got it in place.”

 

“Sam,” Dean whined, slapping his knees, “I’m old. You can’t tease old people, that just isn’t nice.” He huffed and crossed his arms, starting to pout. “I’m a senior.”

 

“You’re fifty,” Sam snapped, standing up to start putting the crib together, “calm down before you get a heart murmur or something.”

 

“What is that?” Dean asked. “Is that an old person thing?”

 

“No, Dean,” Sam said, “but that’s the joke. Would you just stand up and help me put this thing together?” He sighed and waited for Dean to push himself up, nodding down at a piece. “Now put that on the end there,” he directed, giving Dean a small smile when he did as he was asked. “Thank you,” he said. “Now you get a kiss.” He leaned over, giving Dean a quick kiss, looking down at another piece. “And that one there now too.”

 

“Do I get another kiss?” Dean asked, picking up the other piece.

 

Sam smiled and nodded. “Of course you do. Once you put that piece where I told you too.”

 

Dean quickly hooked the second piece of the crib onto where Sam had instructed him to and leaned forward, lips puckered.

 

“Thank you,” Sam repeated, giving Dean another kiss. “And now that one over there.”

 

* * * *

 

Victoria began fiddling with her earring, reaching out for her glass, not taking her eyes away from the television. 

 

“What are you doing?” Dylan asked, leaning in to rub his nose against Hunter’s, gently washing her arms. “I know Hunter, I love the bath too. Love bathing you.” He kept his hand on her as he glanced back at Victoria. “What you watching?” he asked.

 

“I’m not sure,” Victoria replied, shrugging. “You okay with her?”

 

Dylan turned back to Hunter, glancing out the window above the sink. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He stuck his tongue out at Hunter, reaching out for the facecloth, carefully running it over her head. “I’m gonna make you all clean and pretty for Grampie and Grandpa, Hunter,” he said softly, giving her a kiss on the top of her head.

 

Victoria cleared her throat gently and slowly stood up, walking into the kitchen, slipping her hands into her pockets. 

 

“What’s up?” Dylan asked, glancing over at Victoria.

 

“I think that we need to talk sometime, Dylan,” Victoria said quietly, meeting Dylan’s eyes.

 

“About what?” Dylan asked, looking back down to make sure Hunter was still safe.

 

“I want to take Hunter to New Hampshire,” she said quickly, pursing her lips as she waited for Dylan to respond.

 

“Why can’t I take her to Kansas then?” Dylan asked. “‘Cause it’s…sort of the same thing, you know.”

 

“Okay well, no, actually it’s not,” Victoria said, “because my family is alive.”

 

Dylan sighed and rolled his eyes, going back to washing Hunter. “I just don’t like when you talk about them like that.”

 

“So, does that mean that you’re not letting me take her?” Victoria asked.

 

“When, Victoria? For how long?” Dylan asked. “Why can’t they just come here? Do you expect me to go with you?”

 

“What do you mean, ‘expect’?” Victoria repeated. “Does that mean that you wouldn’t?”

 

Dylan shook his head. “Victoria, no offense, but I hate your family.”

 

“Why, because we’re rich?” Victoria questioned, slipping her hands out of her pockets to cross her arms. 

 

“No, because they’re too damn stuck up and self-involved to even come visit their granddaughter,” Dylan explained. “I don’t need her exposed to that. Oh, but of course, she won’t remember anyway, so it’s not really that important.”

 

“It’s important to them,” Victoria said, cocking her head to the side. 

 

“If it was so important they’d come here!” Dylan exclaimed, looking down when Hunter began to cry. “Shh, it’s okay,” he whispered, stroking Hunter’s cheek with his knuckle. “Sorry, baby.” He sighed and looked back up at Victoria. “Why do we even have to fight about this? You agree with me about your parents.”

 

Victoria rolled her eyes and pushed herself away from the counter, walking back into the living room. “I don’t wanna argue either, Dylan. I just wanna take her for like, a weekend.”

 

Dylan shook his head down at Hunter, smiling as he reached in, lifting her up and out of the sink, holding her to his chest against the towel he had thrown over his shoulder. “Let’s go get you dried off and dressed, huh?” he asked, grabbing another small towel to hold against Hunter’s back and slightly cover her head.

 

Victoria pushed herself up on the couch, watching Dylan go down the hallway to the nursery. She dropped her head to the side and began twirling her hair around her fingers, shaking her head slowly. 

 

Dylan frowned and laid Hunter down on her changing table, keeping a hand on her as he reached out, rooting around for an outfit. He finally just grabbed a pink sleeper and began carefully drying her off, grinning down at her all the while, tickling her gently. He leaned down and gave her a kiss before getting her dressed, lifting her up. “Did you pack a bag for her?” he asked, walking out of the nursery.

 

Victoria nodded and waved her hand back in the direction of the nursery. “By the rocking chair,” she replied, looking up at him.

 

Dylan sighed and walked back into the nursery, reaching down to grab the bag. “Are you coming with me when I drive her over?” he asked, pulling the bag over his shoulder, shifting Hunter in his arms.

 

Victoria thought for a moment, before finally just shrugging. “No, I think I’m just gonna stay here,” she said quietly, crossing her arms.

 

“Right,” Dylan muttered, shaking his head. “I’ll see you in awhile then. I might stay for a couple of minutes with her, help ‘em all get settled in.” He leaned down and gave Victoria a kiss, trying weakly to give her a smile. “Bye.”

 

Victoria nodded and leaned up, kissing the top of Hunter’s head, reaching up to run her fingers over her soft hair. “Have fun, baby girl,” she breathed.

 

Dylan turned and walked over to the door, slipping his feet into his sneakers, making sure he had a better hold on the baby rather than the diaper bag. He opened the door and walked out into the hallway, glancing down at Hunter as he pulled the door closed behind him.

 

* * * *

 

“So you guys got into a fight?” Dean asked, watching Sam rub Hunter’s back, reaching out to see if she would suck on the end of his finger. “And then you left.”

 

“I had to bring her here,” Dylan mumbled, picking at the knee of his jeans. “And it wasn’t really a fight. Or maybe it was. I don’t know.” He shook his head, letting out a breath. “You guys put the crib together?” he asked, looking around.

 

“It’s in our room,” Sam replied, settling back against the couch, looking down at Hunter, who was sleeping in his arms. “Oh, you have to see what I found today.”

 

Dean smiled and rolled his eyes, glancing down at Dylan. “It’s not as interesting as Sam here thinks it is,” he teased.

 

Sam carefully stood up and walked into the master bedroom, coming out with a couple of stuffed animals in his arms, tossing them over at Dylan.

 

“G. Raffe,” Dylan said softly, grinning, “Ba. Were these in my room?” he asked.

 

Sam nodded, sitting back down beside Dean. “In your toy chest.”

 

Dylan laughed softly, examining his toys. “Awesome. I’ll put them in Hunter’s room, see if she likes them.”

 

“You should clean them first,” Dean suggested, “God knows what’s on them.”

 

Dylan shrugged, setting the animals down on the floor beside him. “So you guys will be okay with her, right?” he asked.

 

“Dylan, in case you haven’t noticed,” Dean began slowly, “we raised you. She’s a baby, you were a baby, we got it.”

 

“But she’s my baby,” Dylan said quietly, looking up at his parents. “I’m just nervous.”

 

“She’ll be fine here,” Sam assured him. “And you’re just a phone call and a four minute drive away, if anything does happen.”

 

Dylan groaned as he pushed himself up off the floor, grabbing on G. Raffe and Ba, watching Hunter for a few seconds before leaning down, giving her a kiss. “You be good now,” he said softly, giving Sam and Dean a smile. “And I am going home to enjoy a good night’s sleep.”

 

“Do you want us to keep her tomorrow night too?” Sam asked, looking up at him.

 

Dylan shrugged. “I’ll be by tomorrow anyway. So, we’ll just see how Victoria and I are feeling.”

 

“You two have fun tonight,” Dean remarked, giving Dylan a wink.

 

Dylan rolled his eyes and waved at them, going through the kitchen, getting his shoes on. “See ya!” he called, stepping out into the dark, even though it was really only early evening. He jogged down the driveway to his car, climbing in, tossing the stuffed animals into the passenger seat.

 

“Let’s give her a bath,” Dean suggested eagerly.

 

“She’s sleeping, Dean,” Sam pointed out, “and she already had a bath today.”

 

“Maybe we should go and try to get some sleep now,” Dean said, “before the crying kicks in.”

 

Sam cocked his head to the side and thought, finally nodding in agreement. “Okay, let’s go put her in the crib,” he said, standing up.

 

* * * *

 

Dylan stopped as soon as he opened the door, looking around the apartment. He frowned, feeling something off. “Vic?” he called, walking in further, the door closing behind him. He heard her in the bedroom and set the stuffed animals down on the dining room table, walking towards the room. “What’s going on?” he asked, seeing her bag on the bed. He sighed, leaning against the doorframe. “I’m not going to New Hampshire with you,” he said flatly, crossing his arms.

 

“You know, Dylan,” Victoria said, shoving her clothes in the bag, “I have put up with a lot of crap from you over the years.”

 

Dylan rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah, and what would that include?”

 

“You sleep with guys,” Victoria reminded him. “How do you think I felt when you told-- no, correction, when you yelled that at me?”

 

“I just thought that you deserved to know,” Dylan said, smirking.

 

“I have the feeling that there’s a lot of things you’re not telling me here, Dylan,” Victoria said, finally stopping in the middle of the room. “There’s something with you. With your family. With everything.”

 

“At least my family is here, Victoria,” he pointed out, shaking his head. “Where the hell is yours?”

 

“At home,” Victoria replied, “where I should be. What the hell am I doing in California?”

 

“Having a baby,” Dylan replied.

 

Victoria sighed, and went back to packing. “I think that we should’ve agreed on something here, Dylan. If I had known that you really weren’t going to budge on the adoption thing, I would’ve had an abortion.”

 

“Don’t say that,” Dylan snapped angrily. “Don’t ever talk about Hunter like that.”

 

“I don’t want you to come to New Hampshire with me,” Victoria said, pulling out her second bag, filling it with the rest of her clothes.

 

Dylan frowned and swallowed hard, looking at the half-empty closet and the empty drawers. “You’re uh, taking a lot of clothes there, huh? When are you coming back?” he asked.

 

“I don’t know,” Victoria replied, zipping her bag, looking around the room for anything else.

 

“Well, are you coming back?” Dylan asked, stepping towards her.

 

Victoria sighed, reaching out for a picture of their nightstand, slipping it into her bag. “I don’t know,” she admitted finally, dropping her eyes.

 

Dylan swallowed hard and shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you right now,” he said. “What are you doing?”

 

“I’m too young to be a mother, Dylan,” Victoria said, picking up one of her bags. “You’re too young to be a dad, just admit it. If we had earlier, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

 

Dylan shook his head. “Hunter’s my daughter, and I’m not running out on her now, Victoria. If you do this, you’ll-- you’ll never forgive yourself.”

 

Victoria pulled on her jacket and gave a curt nod. “Maybe not. But if I let myself stay in a life I’m not happy in, with a person who isn’t happy with me, that’ll be worse.”

 

“For you,” Dylan said. “Not Hunter. She needs her mother.”

 

“Not if her mother’s worse than no mother at all,” Victoria said, picking up both bags. “Dylan, just move out of my way. Let me go.”

 

“You’re not coming back,” Dylan said, shaking his head.

 

“You don’t know that,” Victoria said. “I just need--”

 

“No,” Dylan interrupted, “you’re not coming back. If you leave now, you’re not coming back and you’re not getting anywhere near my daughter.”

 

Victoria looked down to the floor, shoulders slumping. “I’ll let my parents know to stop paying for the apartment.”

 

“That’s all you can say?” Dylan exclaimed. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You’re walking out on your daughter!”

 

“No, Dylan!” Victoria yelled. “I’m not! I’m walking out on you. And if I have to leave Hunter to make that happen, then fine.”

 

“Don’t fight for custody,” Dylan said, moving in front of the door. “Don’t you dare even try to come back into her life. If you walk out, she is my daughter. And that’s it.”

 

Victoria nodded. “Fine. Just move.” She shifted uncomfortably, shifting the bags in her hands.

 

Dylan glared at Victoria for a moment before nodding once, stepping out of the way. “I never loved you as much as I loved him,” he said, turning to watch Victoria walk down the hall.

 

Victoria stopped walking, staring at the door in front of her. “I know that, Dylan,” she said softly, letting out a deep breath. “Why do you think I’m leaving?” She walked to the door, reaching out and opening it, slipping out into the hallway.

 

Dylan just stared in disbelief, breath coming heavily, tears welling up in his eyes before he brought his hands up to his face, squeezing his eyes shut and his knees buckled, sending him straight to the floor.

 

* * * *

 

“What’s going on?” Sam asked Hunter, trying to open the door. “Why’d Daddy call, baby?” He sighed, moving out of the way to let Dean open the door, turning the key. 

 

Dean walked inside the apartment, looking around. “Hey, Dyl?” he called, setting Hunter’s diaper bag down by the door. “Hunter’s back!”

 

“Get a good night’s sleep?” Sam asked, glancing into the living room. “Or…did you go back to sleep after you called?” He looked back at Dean, shrugging. 

 

“I will go check his room,” Dean said, walking down the hallway. He knocked lightly on Dylan’s bedroom door, pushing it open. “What’s going on?” he asked, hurrying over when he saw Dylan on the floor. “Dylan?” he asked. “Dylan, are you okay?”

 

Dylan let out a soft snore before his eyes fluttered open and he looked up at Dean. “Daddy,” he said quietly, awkwardly pushing himself up.

 

“What’s going on?” Dean asked, pulling Dylan in for a hug. “Where’s Victoria?”

 

Dylan shrugged, rubbing his cheek against Dean’s shirt. “New Hampshire,” he muttered, looking up at Dean. “She left us.”

 

“For how long?” Dean asked, grasping onto Dylan’s shoulders.

 

Dylan shook his head. “I think she might’ve-- I think she was going to come back eventually. At least for Hunter. But I told her she couldn’t come back ever. Not if she walked out the door.”

 

“Dylan,” Dean said softly, shaking his head. “What are you talking about?”

 

“She’s gone, Dad,” Dylan muttered, lying back down on the floor, curling up. “And when Hunter asks where her mommy is, I have to tell her that she left because of me. That it’s all my fault. Everything’s always my fault. I’m so messed up.”

 

Sam walked into the bedroom, looking down at Dylan. “What happened?” he asked softly, sitting down on the floor beside Dean.

 

“Every time I’m ever close to happy, I just fuck it up,” Dylan continued. 

 

“Victoria’s gone,” Dean said, looking up at Sam. “And she’s not coming back.”

 

Sam swallowed hard and looked down at Hunter in his arms, holding her a little bit closer.

 

“Danny left me because he loved me,” Dylan said, eyes running down his cheeks, “and Victoria left me because I love Danny.” He shifted on the floor, wrapping his arms around himself. “I should’ve let her take Hunter. I’ll just mess Hunter up too. She’ll hate me, when she knows the truth.”

 

“Nobody could ever hate you, Dylan,” Sam said softly, reaching out to gently grasp onto Dylan’s wrist. “And not your daughter. It takes a lot to really hate a parent.”

 

Dylan swallowed hard. “I made her mother leave. I think that’s enough.”

 

“Victoria had to be willing to leave, Dylan,” Dean pointed out, “you couldn’t’ve made her go if she really didn’t want to. And she’s the one who left Hunter, not you. Hunter doesn’t need a mother like that.” He leaned down, kissing Dylan’s temple, ruffling his hair.

 

“No, she doesn’t,” Dylan admitted, sniffling, and looking over at his baby, “but even Victoria would be better than no mother at all.” He swallowed hard and closed his eyes, fingers curling into the floor.

 

Sam glanced over at Dean, who just nodded once. Sam sighed, squeezing Dylan’s wrist. “Come on. Let’s get you up. We’ll help you pack, we’ll get everything you need. Hunter’s crib, everything. We’ll bring it to our house.”

 

“Really?” Dylan asked, lifting his head.

 

Dean nodded. “Yeah, of course. You’re our kid, and Hunter’s our granddaughter. What kind of parents would we be if we just let you stay here alone, without our help?” He slowly pushed himself up, reaching down to help Dylan up off the floor. “We’re not like her. We’re not abandoning you.”

 

Dylan swallowed hard and looked over at Hunter, before settling against Dean, closing his eyes. “I finally get to go home,” he whispered, hearing Hunter start to cry as she woke up.


	41. Chapter 40

Title: Look What Love Has Done - Volume 3 - Chapter 40

Pairing: Sam/Dean

Disclaimer: Not mine

Rating: NC-17 this chapter

Summary: Dylan’s just trying to get used to being back home. And Dean’s just trying to get used to having his son back.

Author's Note: Forget volume one, forget volume two; this is volume three 

 

 

twenty-one years, eleven months and nine days old

 

Dylan rolled over onto his back, groaning softly, not wanting to get up. He thought, he hoped, that if maybe he just laid there, and tried to get back to sleep, he eventually would, and Hunter would eventually stop crying.

 

Dean reached out and yanked on their clock, blinking a couple of times to focus on the numbers. “What the hell is he doing?” he muttered, glancing over at Sam.

 

“Le’ me alo’,” Sam mumbled, stretching out as he pulled his pillow over his head, trying to let himself drift back to sleep.

 

Dean closed his eyes and rolled onto his side, counting in his head the number of seconds it was taking for Dylan to get Hunter to stop crying. 

 

“Why she still cryin’?” Sam asked, voice almost completely muffled by his pillow. “Go get her.”

 

“No,” Dean whined, rolling around, “you do it.” He rubbed at his face and reached up, hearing the alarm clock fall to the floor. “Crap,” he muttered, yawning loudly, pushing himself up, reaching down blindly, trying to grab onto the clock.

 

Sam lifted the pillow off his head and almost rolled onto Dean as he struggled tiredly to push himself up, yawning loudly as he did. “I’ll go down,” he said softly, smiling faintly as he watched Dean trying to grab onto the alarm clock.

 

“Thanks,” Dean muttered, finally just dropping down onto his stomach, snuggling back into the mattress.

 

Sam sighed and his feet dropped down to the floor before he stood up, yawning again and scratching at his chest as he padded over to the door, pulling it open and making his way quietly down to Dylan’s bedroom. He pushed open Dylan’s bedroom door, going straight over to the crib, shushing Hunter as he lifted her out. “Dylan, what are you doing?” he asked, gently bouncing Hunter up and down as he sat down on the edge of Dylan’s bed.

 

Dylan shook his head, rolling onto his back. “Waiting to see if she’d stop crying,” he replied, rubbing at his eyes. 

 

Sam frowned and gave Hunter a kiss, reaching out for Dylan. “Dyl, when you said you were ready for her crib in your room, your dad and I assumed it was because you were actually going to take care of her.”

 

“I am taking care of her,” Dylan said, pushing himself up on his elbows. “I’m just tired.”

 

“And what?” Sam asked. “You think me and Dean are sitting in our room playing cards? We sleep too, Dylan. And she’s your daughter.”

 

Dylan nodded and finally managed to sit all the way up, reaching out for Hunter. “I’ve got her, Mom, don’t worry.” He yawned, checking Hunter’s bottom, giving her a kiss. “You hungry then, baby?” he asked, moving the sheets off of his lap, carefully climbing out of the bed. “You can go back to bed.”

 

“You sure?” Sam asked, standing up, following after Dylan. 

 

Dylan nodded and waved his hand behind him, giving Hunter another kiss. “Yeah, I’m sure,” he assured him, glancing back at Sam. “Goodnight.”

 

“Night,” Sam said softly, turning off to go back to his bedroom, slipping into the room, closing the door behind him.

 

“He good?” Dean asked, reaching back to pull the sheets down for Sam.

 

Sam yawned as he climbed back into bed, dropping down heavily on the mattress, throwing his arm over Dean’s back. “He will be,” he replied quietly, rubbing his cheek against Dean’s back.

 

Dylan pulled open the refrigerator door, reaching in to grab one of her bottles of formula. “Is this what you want?” he asked, holding the bottle up to Hunter. 

 

Hunter reached out for the bottle, wrapping her fingers around the rubber nipple. 

 

“Let’s just go warm it up, okay?” Dylan said, walking over to the microwave, sticking the bottle in. “I’ll feed ya then we can just go back to bed, okay?” He began pacing around the kitchen, bouncing Hunter up and down, humming to her softly. 

 

“I’m just…” Dean groaned and rolled onto his back, wrapping his arm around Sam’s shoulders, pulling him in, “gon’ go back to sleep.” He kissed the top of Sam’s head before he settled back into the mattress, drifting back to sleep.

 

The microwave beeped and Dylan walked over, taking out Hunter’s bottle. He shifted her in his arms, smiling down at her before sticking his wrist out, shaking a couple of drops of the formula onto his skin. “I think that that’s okay,” he nodded, helping her take the bottle in before going back down to his bedroom.

 

Hunter brought a tiny hand up, pressing against the side of the bottle, toes curling in her sleeper as Dylan sat down on his bed, holding her close.

 

“Alright,” Dylan said, shifting her again, moving his hand to the end of her bottle, “now we’re okay,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head. “We’re all good. I was gonna get up eventually.”

 

Hunter’s eyes were wide as she looked up Dylan, letting go of the bottle, reaching up to him. She whimpered softly, still sucking on the bottle.

 

“Shh, shh,” Dylan whispered, lifting Hunter up a little, pressing his lips to the side of her head, “let’s just be good, okay? Are you not hungry anymore?” He gently slipped the bottle out of Hunter’s mouth and she looked down immediately, reaching back out for the bottle. Dylan smiled, giving the bottle back to her. He pushed himself up and crawled up to the head of his bed, leaning against the headboard, closing his eyes.

 

* * * *

 

Dylan jolted awake when he felt the bottle being grabbed out of his hands and Hunter being lifted off his chest. “What’s going on?” he asked tiredly, rubbing his eyes as he sat up.

 

“Was this bottle in her mouth all night long?” Dean asked, holding Hunter up to his chest, waving the bottle in Dylan’s face.

 

“Uh…” Dylan rubbed his eyes, and shook his head slowly, “no? I took it out before I fell asleep. She was done.”

 

Dean sighed, looking down at Hunter, before his shoulders slumped. “Okay. Good. ‘Cause it can’t be in her mouth all night, you know.”

 

Dylan nodded understandingly, stretching his arms above his head. “I know, Dad. She was finished and then we fell asleep.” He glanced over at his clock. “Are you going to work?”

 

Dean shook his head. “No, Sam wants me to go for a jog with him or something.”

 

“Are you taking Hunter?” Dylan asked, swinging his legs off the bed, standing up. “Or uh…can I come with you?”

 

“You wanna go for a jog?” Dean asked in surprise, making a couple of faces down at Hunter. “With us two, you know, it’s probably just going to end up as a walk.”

 

Dylan laughed softly, reaching out for Hunter, setting her on his hip, holding her close. “I don’t know, I think that fresh air might be nice. I haven’t left the house all that often since I moved back in, in case you haven’t noticed.”

 

Dean sighed sadly and nodded slowly. “Yeah, I’ve noticed. It’ll get better though,” he assured him.

 

Dylan nodded. “Yeah, I hope so,” he said quietly. He kissed Hunter’s forehead, walking over to her changing table, pulling out one of the drawers, grabbing out a tiny outfit. “If you’ll give me time to get changed and get her dressed, can we go?”

 

“Aw, I love how you still talk like you’re twelve,” Dean grinned, patting Dylan’s shoulder. “Yes, you can go. I’ll go tell Sam we’ve gotta wait a couple of minutes. And I’ll get her stroller.”

 

“Thanks,” Dylan smiled, laying Hunter down on her changing table, unbuttoning her sleeper, leaning down to give her a kiss as he gently slipped her arms out of the sleeves.

 

Dean made his way out of the bedroom and down the hallway, grinning at Sam in the living room. “Dyl and Hunt are coming with.”

 

“Oh, okay,” Sam said, looking up at Dean. “A little family outing, then.”

 

“So, he did not let her go to bed with the bottle,” Dean said thankfully, walking into the kitchen. 

 

“That’s good,” Sam replied, pushing himself up on the couch to keep watching Dean. “See? He knows what he’s doing.”

 

“Yeah, I never said that he didn’t,” Dean pointed out, setting the empty bottle down by the sink. “But I still don’t know how much I trust him with her yet.”

 

Sam frowned and shrugged. “I guess that’s why we let him move back in with us then, isn’t it?” he remarked. 

 

“Yep,” Dean agreed, walking back into the living room, leaning against the couch. He smiled and leaned down, giving Sam a kiss. “Well, you let him move back in,” he teased.

 

“I wasn’t going to let him stay in the apartment all by himself,” Sam said. “I don’t know what he would do.”

 

Dean let out a breath, blowing Sam’s hair away from his eyes. “Me either. But, oh well. He’s here; it’s been a couple of weeks, and he’s fine. And our little grandbaby is in the same house as us.” He grinned, trying not to squee. “She’s the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

 

Sam reached out, pulling on Dean’s arm, pulling him down towards him. “What about me?” he asked quietly, batting his eyes. 

 

“At which moment?” Dean asked, climbing up onto the couch, slowly pushing Sam down. 

 

Sam grinned and wet his lips, letting Dean settle down against him. “Oh, I don’t know,” he replied, nipping at Dean’s ear, “when I’m…going down on you.”

 

“Ooh,” Dean said, “lemme think about this. That’s a whole ‘nother kind of gorgeous, Sam. When you look up at me, eyes all wide…”

 

“What about when you’re going down on me?” Sam teased, moving his hands up and down Dean’s back.

 

“Okay, that might win,” Dean replied, giving Sam a kiss.

 

“What the heck are you two doing?” Dylan asked, walking up the hallway. “Please-- please just don’t do that in front of me.”

 

“Then close your eyes,” Dean said soft and slowly, kissing Sam again.

 

Sam laughed loudly and gently shoved at Dean’s shoulders, trying to sit up. “Aww, doesn’t Hunter look cute today. There’s my baby.”

 

“D’you think that Hunter’s gonna be a ginger?” Dean asked thoughtfully, pushing himself back up. “Her hair’s a little, you know…something different.”

 

“She’s a blonde, Dean,” Sam said, pushing himself up off the couch. “Strawberry. But she’s not a ginger.”

 

“Daywalker then,” Dean suggested, following after Sam and Dylan.

 

“You don’t think that this is a little offensive?” Dylan asked, glancing back Dean. “I thought that you were gonna get her stroller.”

 

“It’s in the porch,” Dean said, walking ahead to pull open the door to the porch, pulling Hunter’s stroller into the kitchen, rolling it back and forth as Dylan leaned down, buckling Hunter in. 

 

Sam crouched down in front of the stroller, leaning in to stroke Hunter’s cheek with his finger, smiling at her. “Hi, Hunter,” he said softly. “Aren’t you looking gorgeous.”

 

Hunter put her lips together and then her mouth opened wide, raising her hand to her face.

 

“Look at those chubby little arms,” Sam grinned, letting Hunter’s fingers wrap around his. “Look at the pretty little face.” He sighed and watched her for a few more moments before straightening up, reaching out for his sneakers. “Did you want me to make you something for breakfast first?” he asked Dylan, looking up as he tied his laces.

 

Dylan shook his head and yawned softly, pushing the stroller back and forth. “Nope, I’m good. I can wait until we’re back.”

 

“Kay,” Sam said, leading the way out the door, pushing open the door, shifting on the steps, holding it open for Dylan to carefully push the stroller outside.

 

“Do you got it?” Dean asked, ready to reach out and make sure that Dylan got Hunter down the stairs okay. 

 

Dylan nodded and reached out, lifting the stroller off the last step, setting it down in the driveway. He glanced down, smiling inside at Hunter, who was watching him back. “Sorry ‘bout that,” he said softly, glancing back at his parents. “Well, we’re ready then.”

 

Sam pulled the door closed behind him, making sure that it was locked and he jogged down the steps, reaching out for Dean’s hand. “Walk with me,” he said softly, letting Dylan go ahead with the stroller.

 

“How’s baby like the fresh air?” Dylan asked, slowly pushing the stroller down the driveway. “Nice change from that crib, huh?”

 

Sam sighed, looking over at Dean, tightening his hold on Dean’s hand.

 

“What?” Dean asked, flexing his fingers in Sam’s. “You okay?”

 

Sam nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied. “Just enjoying some time with my family.”

 

Dean smiled weakly. “Sounds good to me.”

 

Dylan bit his lip as he looked across the street, wondering about the family that was now occupying Todd and Danny’s house. “Do you know about those people?” he asked, glancing back at his parents before nodding at the house.

 

Dean shrugged. “No, not really. Guy and a girl, couple young kids.”

 

Dylan sighed, looking back down at Hunter’s stroller. “You guys are like the oldest in the neighborhood these days, then, huh?” he asked.

 

Dean glared at Dylan, mouth open ready to speak before Sam just shook his head. 

 

“Be good, Dean,” Sam said, glancing back and Danny’s old house, frowning slightly. “So what are we going to do for the rest of the day?” he asked.

 

“Hey Dyl, do you wanna repaint your room or something?” Dean asked. “Make it more nursery like?”

 

Dylan shook his head. “No Dad, that’s okay. Hunter’s okay with my room being the way it is.”

 

“Okay,” Dean said, “so, do you wanna paint it for yourself?”

 

Dylan laughed and shook his head again. “No Dad, I’m fine. But you can paint it, if you want to paint something so bad.”

 

“I was just wondering,” Dean said, making a face at Dylan. “Just offering, trying to be a nice father.”

 

“Can we pick up the pace a bit more?” Sam asked. “I was kind of hoping for some exercise here.”

 

“Walking is exercise,” Dean insisted. “And we’re old.”

 

“Dylan’s not,” Sam pointed out.

 

“Dylan doesn’t wanna exercise,” Dean said. “He’s my kid, after all.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes and glanced around the street. “Well, I’m gonna start to run.”

 

“Sam, you are such a ‘tard if you start to run right now,” Dean informed him.

 

“Oh, really?” Sam asked, laughing loudly. “Well then, I guess I’m gonna be a ‘tard.” He stuck his tongue out and began running down the sidewalk, going past Dylan with the stroller. 

 

Dylan laughed, looking back at Dean expectantly. “You gonna let him beat you like that, Dad?” he asked.

 

“If my ankle gives out,” Dean began as he started off after Sam, “your ass is paying for the surgery!”

 

Dylan laughed again and looked up as a couple of moving trucks drove by, wondering where they were going.

 

* * * *

 

Dylan shifted on floor beside Hunter, lifting the book up above both of them. “Little one,” he read, “whoever you are, wherever you are, there are little ones just like you all over the world.” He brought the book down so that Hunter could look at the pictures. “Wow Hunter, look at that. Look at the pictures.” He looked down at Hunter. “Can you see them alright? Aren’t they pretty? The people?” Dylan rolled onto his stomach and pushed himself up, looking down at Hunter. “See, this little girl here looks like you,” he said, pointing to one of the pictures, “but this one doesn’t. Get it?”

 

“Dylan, she’s a month old,” Dean pointed out, flipping through the television channels. “She doesn’t get it.”

 

Dylan sighed and dropped back down onto his back, flipping the page. “Their skin may be different from yours and their homes may be different from yours.” He sighed again, pausing to think. He shifted, looking up at the ceiling.

 

Dean stretched his feet out, nudging Sam gently, nodding over at Dylan.

 

Sam looked up from his book, taking his glasses off for a moment. “You okay, Dyl?” he asked, sitting up a little bit straighter.

 

Dylan nodded slowly, setting his book down. “Just…seeing what Hunter sees,” he replied.

 

Dean frowned and pushed himself up on the couch, getting a better look at Dylan and Hunter, looking up at the ceiling. “Is there something up there?” he asked, trying to see.

 

Dylan shook his head. “Just looking,” he explained.

 

Sam put his glasses back on, scanning the page to find his place. “The other windows, as well as every other chink in the room, were muffled with rags or black cardboard…” he trailed off, going back to reading silently.

 

Dean turned from Dylan and walked into the bedroom, not turning the light on after him. He dropped the remote down onto the bed, walking into the bathroom.

 

“He okay?” Dylan asked, picking Hunter’s book back up. 

 

“I don’t know,” Sam admitted, slowly uncurling his legs, pushing himself up. “I’ll go check.”

 

“Where was I?” Dylan asked, glancing down at Hunter. “Oh, right. Their schools may be different from yours and their--”

 

“What’s going on?” Sam asked, pushing the bedroom door closed behind him. “You okay?” 

 

Dean looked up from the bathroom mirror, wetting his lips. “This just isn’t how any of it was supposed to be. It’s all that little bastard Danny’s fault.”

 

“For the past two years you were gunnin’ for him,” Sam pointed out, “talked about him all the time. He’s back to that little bastard, huh?”

 

“He never would’ve done this to Dylan,” Dean muttered.

 

Sam sighed, leaning against the doorframe. “Dean, he already broke up with him once. Okay? And Victoria did do this to him and Hunter, and that’s something that we just have to deal with now, okay? You take the good, you take the bad, you take them both--”

 

“And there you have the facts of life,” Dean finished, “the facts of life. Well, the facts of life fucking suck, Sam. The facts blow. The facts are that my son has a baby of his own and lives at home with his parents!”

 

Sam rolled his eyes and stepped further into the bathroom, closing that door behind him also. “Okay, he can probably hear you, you know.”

 

“Well, I’m sure he knows, Sam,” Dean snapped.

 

Dylan dropped his book again, looking down at Hunter. He sighed sadly, curling onto his side beside her. “It’s my fault we have to live here, Hunter,” he whispered. “I should’ve…everything should’ve been different.”

 

“Dean, it is what it is,” Sam said, “and we have to accept it. He has a daughter and he’s here. Aren’t you at least happy that he’s still not with Victoria?”

 

“Of course I am,” Dean said. “You know I am. He didn’t love her. And that bitch left my grandbaby. But how long is he going to stay here, Sam? A year? Two? Five?”

 

“As long as he needs to,” Sam replied. “Dean, this isn’t funny, okay? Our son needs us now. Our granddaughter needs us now. Just be good, okay?”

 

Dean sighed and dropped his eyes, picking at the sink. “Well, it’s not like I’m gonna go out there and tell him anything or something. But…he’s still supposed to be at Columbia. He’s supposed to have a life that just doesn’t involve us. Whatever I feel about us, I feel worse for him.”

 

Dylan yawned softly and closed his eyes, lightly resting his hand on Hunter’s stomach, feeling her breathing. “I’ll do everything I can to make sure you’re okay,” he said softly, opening his eyes for just a moment to look down at her. “Promise.”

 

Sam reached out and grasped onto Dean’s hand, pulling him in for a kiss. “It’s okay,” he whispered, wrapping his other arm around Dean’s neck, keeping him close. “Love you,” he breathed, mouth moving warm and wet over Dean’s mouth and neck, letting himself get pushed up against the sink. 

 

Dean moaned softly and closed his eyes, settling against Sam, working his hips against his. “Make it all okay, Sam,” he pleaded gently, looking up at him.

 

Sam swallowed hard and nodded slowly, dropping his hand down to gently push at Dean’s pants, undoing the tie of his sweats. “I don’t know if the sex is going to do it, Dean,” he said, pushing Dean’s pants down to his thighs.

 

“No,” Dean agreed, keeping his eyes on Sam’s as Sam slowly began to kneel, groaning softly when his knees went to the floor, “but I’m sure that it’ll help.” He pushed his fingers through Sam’s silky hair, head going back a little and eyes closing when Sam kissed the head of Dean’s dick, thrusting his hips a little.

 

Sam wet his lips and opened his mouth, carefully moving it over Dean, taking him in. He dragged his tongue along the bottom until he could go no further, and he slowly began pulling off and pushing back down, Dean’s small thrusts helping him along. He moved his hands to Dean’s hips, keeping him still.

 

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, wanting to watch Sam but he just couldn’t keep them open, and his breath was shaky. “I just want him to be ha-- happy,” he said quietly, puling on Sam’s hair just enough to get Sam to look up at him. “How happy can he be living with us?”

 

Sam pulled off, licking his lips. “Probably happier than we know.” He rested his forehead against Dean’s hip, taking a deep breath.

 

* * * *

 

“So have you seen her?” Dylan asked, shifting the phone against his ear.

 

Paul shook his head. “Naw, man, but word’s going around. Me and Pipe and a couple of people have got our eyes open for her. Have you heard from her?”

 

“No,” Dylan replied quietly. “And I gotta say, if I heard from her now, she’d get a punch in the face.”

 

“You can’t hit girls, Dylan,” Paul said flatly. He sighed, rubbing his forehead. “But I can. So don’t worry about it.”

 

“I think she’s in New Hampshire anyway,” Dylan said. “I don’t know. I don’t really care anymore. I kicked her out, and I don’t want her back.”

 

“How’s Hunter?” Paul asked. “She notice the difference yet?”

 

Dylan shrugged. “Hunter always spent more time with me anyway. But whatever. How are classes?”

 

Paul sighed, pushing himself up out of his chair. “I don’t know. The regular. You’re not missing much. Other than a degree in architecture.”

 

“Yeah, thanks, Paul,” Dylan muttered. “But I’m fine. I made it this long without architecture, I can it a few more years.”

 

“How long is a few more years?” Paul asked. 

 

“Till Hunter starts school,” Dylan replied, “or until one of my parents retires. Either way, it’s until I won’t have to spend my days with Hunter.”

 

“Isn’t it boring?” Paul asked. “Just staying at home all day, every day? I mean uh, no offense or anything. To you or Sam, ‘cause you said that he did it too. I just--”

 

“It’s fine,” Dylan interrupted gently, smiling. “I’m a stay-at-home dad, you can say it. And I mean, it’d be boring if there wasn’t a baby here with me, I don’t know how Mom did that part, but a newborn can keep a person pretty interested.”

 

“Don’t all they do is sleep and shit?” Paul asked. “Or something much more eloquent?”

 

“I’m raising her, Paul,” Dylan pointed out, “that does take some time. And she does more than that.”

 

“I was just joking, Dylan,” Paul assured him, before Dylan could start to get into his rant. “I remember when Rebeka was a baby. Sort of.”

 

“I suppose that I’m sort of keeping you up, huh?” Dylan asked, glancing down at his watch. “Oh, never mind. It’s earlier than I thought it was.”

 

“Trust me, Dylan,” Paul began, “if I was tired, you’d sure as hell know it. But I do gotta let you go eventually. I got myself a date tonight.”

 

“Is it with a guy?” Dylan asked.

 

“Uh…” Paul laughed softly, shaking his head. “No? I mean, no.”

 

“Then it’s not worth it,” Dylan replied flatly. “Trust me.”

 

“You are way too jaded, man,” Paul said. “But I gotta go hit the showers, so you and Hunter have fun, ‘kay?”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Dylan nodded, smiling. “I’ll talk to you later.”

 

“Bye,” Paul said, turning off his phone.

 

Dylan let out his breath and closed his eyes for a moment, tossing the phone onto his bed. “Great,” he muttered, rubbing his hands over his face. He glanced over at Hunter’s crib and pushed himself up out of his chair, walking over to it. “You want out?” he asked, reaching in to lift Hunter out of the crib. “Sorry baby, but I don’t have anything for us to do.” He gave her a kiss and leaned back down, carefully placing Hunter back down. 

 

“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” Dean whispered harshly, shoving Sam in the arm.

 

“Ow!” Sam cried, hand going to his arm. “What the hell are you doing?”

 

“We’re not telling him!” Dean cried. “So shut up!”

 

“I wasn’t--” Sam shook his head, still rubbing his arm, “I may have…okay, I was going to tell him. But personally, I think that he deserves to know.”

 

“Remember the last time we had a fight about something like this?” Dean asked. “Dylan heard it through the bathroom door. So let’s just stop, okay? Don’t tell him, Sammy. Okay?”

 

Sam sighed but finally nodded, hand dropping down from his arm. “Okay. But how long do you think it’s going to be before he finds out for himself?”

 

“Long enough for him to get over this,” Dean replied. “At the least. Let him deal with this and Victoria and Hunter before we let anything else interfere. He deserves that.”

 

“Well, of course he does, Dean,” Sam agreed. “I won’t tell him. But you can’t either.” He shook his head, walking out of the kitchen and into the living room, dropping down heavily on the couch. “I just want my little boy to be okay again.” He looked up at Dean. “That’s all.”

 

“Did I hurt your arm?” Dean asked, sitting down beside Sam, resting against him.

 

Sam shook his head slowly, kissing Dean’s forehead. “No, I’m fine. But shoving wasn’t necessary.”

 

“Do you think Dylan wants to do something?” Dean asked. “Like, go out or something?”

 

Sam shrugged. “Probably not. Maybe you two should just go out. Father to father, or something. I’ll watch Hunter.”

 

“What are you talking?” Dean asked, pushing himself up, sitting on Sam’s lap. “Father to father? You’re a father.”

 

“Yeah, okay,” Sam admitted, “I just don’t wanna go out. I wanna play dress up with my granddaughter.”

 

“You mean you wanna dress her up in nice clothes like a doll,” Dean corrected. “No seriously, Sam, what are you gonna do here with her?”

 

Sam shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ll probably just lay here on the couch, her on my chest. Dylan always liked it. I just don’t wanna go out.”

 

“I’ll go see what he’s up to,” Dean said, pushing himself off Sam, making his way down to Dylan’s bedroom. He knocked lightly on the door, leaning against the wall.

 

“Yeah!” Dylan called, lifting his head.

 

“What are you doing tonight?” Dean asked, walking into Dylan’s bedroom.

 

Dylan shrugged, sitting down on his bed. “Uh…I’m guessing it’s not staying here with Hunter, or else you wouldn’t be asking.”

 

“I was just wondering if you wanted to go out,” Dean explained.

 

“With you?” Dylan asked.

 

“Well uh…yeah,” Dean replied. “Sam said he’d stay here with Hunter if you wanted the night off.”

 

Dylan sighed, glancing down at Hunter. “I-- I don’t know. Shouldn’t I be with her? At least for now. You know, till she’s used to it all.”

 

“Oh,” Dean said well. “Uh well, yeah. I get that. Of course.” He gave Dylan a quick smile, turning to walk out of the bedroom.

 

“Uh, did you wanna go?” Dylan asked, taking a couple of steps. “I mean, if-- if you wanna go out. Yeah, sure.”

 

“I’m not gonna force you into anything now, Dylan,” Dean said, turning back around.

 

Dylan shook his head, hand still curled around the top of Hunter’s crib. “I wanna go. Wherever you wanna take me. Just-- I’ll have a shower and get changed, okay?”

 

“Yeah, sounds good,” Dean agreed, walking out of the room, going down the hall.

 

“Well?” Sam asked, lifting his head.

 

“I’m gonna take him to a bar,” Dean said proudly, giving Sam the thumbs up.

 

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes, snuggling into the couch.

 

* * * *

 

Dylan looked around the bar, shifting on his stool. “I never really did bars in New York,” he said, looking back to Dean. “Um…are you a big bar person?”

 

“Loved ‘em,” Dean replied, stretching in his seat, taking a drink of his beer. “Bars always had lots of ladies.”

 

Dylan’s eyes widened slightly and he reached out of his beer, quickly downing what was left. He burped softly and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Sometimes I think that I don’t wanna know about yours and Mom’s lives before me.”

 

Dean smiled understandingly, nodding. “Oh yeah, trust me. You don’t. I mean, parts of it anyway. Oh well. You gonna tell Hunter everything about your life?”

 

Dylan shook his head slowly. “No. Course not.” He sighed, looking over at the bartender. “Uh, a shot?” he asked nervously, glancing over at Dean.

 

“Of?” the bartender asked, drying a glass off as he walked over to Dean and Dylan.

 

Dylan shrugged. “Surprise me.”

 

“I had no idea that you were a shot man,” Dean said, shifting in his seat. “Or…you’re not. And I’m going to end up laughing by the time the night’s over.” He watched Dylan eye the glass in front of him. “And then Sam will kill me. Okay.”

 

Dylan reached out for the glass and quickly brought it up to his mouth, swallowing it down. “Aah,” he breathed, setting the glass back down. “Yum.”

 

Dean laughed loudly, clasping onto Dylan’s shoulder. “Oh Dylan, you are so Sam’s kid it’s not even funny.” He waved his hand at the bartender, mouthing two. “Okay so, since I figure you need it, and I am here for you and all…I’m gonna get you wasted, okay? Trust me. Everything will feel better compared to the hang over you’ll have tomorrow.”

 

“Great, Dad,” Dylan muttered, shoulders slumping when the bartender set two more shots in front of his him. He looked over at Dean, reaching out for the shot. “Can’t feel any worse,” he said softly, quickly downing the shot.

 

Dean shifted closer to Dylan, wrapping his arm around his shoulder. “None of this is your fault, kiddo,” he said, looking at Dylan’s eyes. “But I know what it feels like, to feel like everything is.”

 

Dylan looked up at Dean sadly, reaching out for the second shot. “Yeah, well…” he trailed off, not being able to think of anything better to say before he threw his head back, eyes closing as the drink burned his throat.

 

* * * *

 

Sam stretched out on the couch as Hunter did the same on his chest, tiny feet dragging across his shirt. Sam rested his hand on Hunter’s back, lifting his head just enough to give her a kiss. “I spy with my little eye something that is…” he looked around the living room, “green.”

 

Hunter made a soft sound in her sleep, tiny thumb slipping into her mouth.

 

“Bad habit,” Sam said quickly, gently slipping the thumb back out, keeping his fingers on hers. “So, sorry, Hunter.” He sighed. “So, are you gonna guess?” he asked gently. “It’s green, like Daddy’s eyes.” He waited, as if expecting an actual answer. “It’s real. But we have a fake one too.” He opened his mouth wide. “That’s right, Hunter. It’s the plant. Oh, you’re smart just like everybody in the family. Yes.” He lifted Hunter up a little closer to his head, closing his eyes. “Just please let me get some sleep before you wake up in the middle of the night again.”

 

“Jesus, you’re a lightweight,” Dean muttered, groaning as he tried to help Dylan into the house. “Okay, okay, let’s just stay quiet.”

 

Dylan leaned against the wall, waving at Sam before he began to slip, reaching out for Dean.

 

“Dyl!” Dean yelled, grabbing onto Dylan’s arm. “Come on! I know that you can stand.”

 

“No,” Sam said softly, keeping his eyes closed as Hunter began to cry loudly. “Crap,” he said, lifting Hunter up into his arms as he sat up, kissing her cheek. “Okay, come on, let’s go down to your room. How drunk are you?” he asked, looking at Dylan.

 

Dylan shrugged and rubbed his eyes, kicking off his shoes. “Only shots, Mom. Beer’s gross.”

 

“You’re sure as hell not sleeping with Hunter tonight,” Sam muttered, making his way down the hallway.

 

“Does that mean I’m sleeping in your room tonight?” Dylan asked, looking over at Dean. “Yay!”

 

“I probably won’t be in there with you,” Dean said, grasping onto Dylan’s arm, slowly leading him towards the bedroom. “Now, is there any feelings of hurling going on?” he asked.

 

Dylan shook his head. “I actually feel fine,” he said, stumbling a bit on the way into the room. “Dad, how disappointed are you in me?”

 

Dean looked up at Dylan. “I’m-- I’m not. Why would I be disappointed in you?” He led Dylan over to the bed, slowly helping him get his jacket off.

 

Dylan shrugged. “You said I was too young. And-- and you seemed to upset when I told you. And I heard you the other day, in the bathroom with Mommy.” He wiped at his eyes. “How much are you disappointed in me?”

 

Dean swallowed, dropping his eyes to the floor. “I’m not, Dylan,” he said again. “But none of this was ever the life I wanted for you. More than anything, I wanted you to be happy. And I just don’t think that you are.”

 

Dylan shook his head slowly, dropping back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m not.”

 

“Get your jeans off,” Dean said, going over to his dresser. 

 

Dylan shook his head even as he began fumbling with his belt, finally getting his pants down. “Does Hunter ever just make you…smile?” he asked.

 

Dean smiled faintly, nodding over at Dylan. “Yeah. When she wakes up, when she blinks. Sneezes. Yawns.” He sniffled and wiped at his eyes, walking over to the bed to help Dylan get up towards the pillows.

 

Dylan nodded and pulled on the sheets, rolling onto his stomach. “She’s perfect, huh?”

 

Dean nodded and kissed the back of Dylan’s head, ruffling his hair. “Yeah, she is,” he agreed, sitting down on the edge of the mattress. “Does she make you happy?” he asked.

 

Dylan sighed and wiggled, settling into the mattress. “More than anything,” he said quietly, letting his eyes drift closed.

 

Dean smiled faintly and leaned down, kissing Dylan’s cheek. “Yeah, I know the feeling,” he whispered, gently playing with Dylan’s hair.


	42. Chapter 41

Title: Look What Love Has Done - Volume 3 - Chapter 41

Pairing: Sam/Dean

Disclaimer: Not mine

Rating: NC-17 this chapter

Summary: When Dylan wants to learn about his family, a familiar face shows up, and nobody’s just quite sure how to deal with that.

Author's Note: Forget volume one, forget volume two; this is volume three 

 

 

twenty-one years, eleven months and twenty days old

 

“Oh, you are just such a little tease,” Dean said. “I cannot even believe it. Adorable, yes. Perfection. Oh, haha, don’t I know it. But a tease, just the same.”

 

Dylan walked into the kitchen, stopping in his tracks. “I thought that you were talking to Hunter,” he said, looking at Dean.

 

Sam smiled. “Yeah, and I thought that he was talking to me.” He sighed, raising an eyebrow over at Dean.

 

Dean grinned and licked up the whipped cream on his coffee, moaning softly. “Oh yeah, that is the good stuff.”

 

Dylan stared at Dean in disbelief for a few moments before shaking his head. “Um, am I making supper tonight?” he asked, going over to the refrigerator.

 

“You cook, Dean cleans,” Sam said, “I baby-sit. So…yup. What are you gonna make me?”

 

Dylan looked around in the refrigerator, before opening the freezer. “I’m not sure yet. I'll figure out something. But you guys might wanna hit the grocery store sometime. We’re running out.”

 

“Of what?” Sam asked, gently kicking Dean under the table. “Dean, stop molesting your coffee in front of me.”

 

“Of everything,” Dylan replied, closing the door. “Well, everything of the food variety. Plus, formula and diapers. So yeah, anytime you could do that, that’d be great.”

 

“And what exactly is preventing you from doing all of that?” Dean asked, taking a small sip. “You eat more than we do.”

 

Dylan looked over at his father and Sam just slowly raised his head from his glass. “You can’t be serious, can you?” Dylan asked, walking over to the cupboards, pulling them open. 

 

Dean sighed. “Why does everybody always attack the fact that I like to eat?” He took another drink of his coffee, sticking his finger in the whipped cream, swirling it around.

 

“Uh, you got some,” Sam reached out, pointing to the corner of Dean’s mouth, “right there, babe.”

 

Dean brought his hand up and wiped his mouth, smearing the whipped cream across his cheek. “Crap,” he muttered, pushing himself out of his chair. “I’ll be right back.”

 

Dylan watched Dean walk into the bathroom before going back over to the refrigerator. He cleared his throat gently, nodding to himself. “So, um--”

 

“What’s up?” Sam asked, not even looking up. 

 

Dylan sighed and closed the door, walking over to the dining table, taking Dean’s seat. He brought his feet up onto the chair and began picking at the table cloth. “My birthday’s coming up,” he said finally, looking up when Dean walked back out of the bathroom.

 

“I know,” Sam nodded. “So what do you want? For presents, I mean.”

 

Dylan shrugged. “I don’t know. Can we have cake?” he asked hopefully, looking up at Sam.

 

Sam grinned and nodded. “Um, yeah. Hello. Of course we will.”

 

Dylan smiled back and slowly moved out of Dean’s chair, pulling out the chair at the end of the table, dropping down. “I don’t know what I want though. I guess the room and board is enough.”

 

Sam lolled his head over, looking at Dylan. “Dylan. This isn’t room and board. This is your home. You’ve lived here just as long as we have. And it most certainly does not count as your birthday present.”

 

“This is just Dylan’s really funny way of trying to get his present out of us,” Dean said, smiling over at Dylan. “But you’re not finding out.”

 

“You already have it?” Dylan asked, straightening up. “Oh. I guess I don’t have to ask for anything, then.”

 

“You can still ask for something,” Sam assured him. “Something…not big, though.”

 

“Where’s my supper?” Dean asked suddenly, cocking his head at Dylan. “You’re not cooking?”

 

“It’s three, Dad,” Dylan pointed out. “In the afternoon. Lunch was just a couple of hours ago.”

 

Dean groaned and rubbed his stomach, making a face. “But I’m hungry now,” he whined, tapping his foot against the floor.

 

“Just finish your coffee, Dean,” Sam said gently, reaching out to carefully push Dean’s mug closer to him. “Do you want more whipped cream?” he asked.

 

“Can I just have the whole thing?” Dean asked, sitting forward. 

 

“The container of whipped cream?” Sam asked. “Um, no. You can’t. Drink the coffee.”

 

Dylan looked back and forth between his parents, smiling. “Were you guys like this before?” he asked.

 

“Like what?” Sam and Dean asked together, turning to look at Dylan.

 

Dylan laughed softly. “Like…just the way you are. Crazy and everything.”

 

“He’s talking about you,” Dean said, nodding at Sam once. “Crazy. And to answer your question, Sam has never changed in the forty-five years that I’ve known him.”

 

Dylan looked over at Sam expectantly.

 

“Uh…” Sam shrugged, thinking, “yeah. I mean, I don’t know. Dean really hasn’t changed either. Why?”

 

Dylan shrugged, linking his hands together in front of him, wringing his fingers together. “I don’t know. I’ve just been thinking a lot lately.”

 

“And?” Sam prompted. “About what?”

 

“Well, like, what I’m supposed to tell Hunter about Victoria,” Dylan explained. “And then I started to think about really, how much I don’t know about you guys. Like, about you guys before I came along, you know?”

 

“I wasn’t aware that you didn’t know much about us,” Dean admitted. “Uh…so is this like a crash course in the Winchester past or something?”

 

“Yeah, sort of,” Dylan replied. “When Grampie was…in the hospital and I was saying goodbye,” he let out a gentle breath, “I promised him that I’d tell my family all about him. And let them know how much I loved him. But I don’t really know much about him. Or you guys. And it makes me feel stupid.”

 

“We’re not all that interesting, Dylan,” Sam assured him. “Really. But if you want, you can read Dad’s journal. Uh, our dad’s journal,” he corrected. “Before he started writing about demons and putting in newspaper clippings, he wrote about us. Would that work?”

 

“Where is that thing anyway?” Dean asked.

 

“Don’t worry,” Sam said, pushing his chair back from the table, standing up. “I know where it is. I’ll go get it.” He disappeared into the bedroom and Dean and Dylan could hear him opening up drawers.

 

“Dad was in the marines,” Dean said. “You knew that, right?”

 

“I think so,” Dylan replied. “Colonel?”

 

“Corporal,” Dean corrected. He looked down, taking a deep breath, smiling faintly as he thought about John.

 

“Uh, Dad?” Dylan asked quietly, leaning forward in his seat.

 

“Huh?” Dean asked, coming back. “Oh, sorry. No, he was a Corporal. We might still have his dog tags around here somewhere. If you’re interested.”

 

“I think that maybe you guys should hold onto those,” Dylan said. He scratched at his head, pushing his hair away from his forehead, sighing.

 

“Here you go,” Sam said, setting the journal down in front of Dylan as he took his seat, sliding in across from Dean, giving Dylan a smile. “Right where I left it,” he said proudly.

 

Dylan opened the journal, carefully flipping through the pages. “I’ll go put this down in my room,” he said, pushing his chair back, picking up the journal. He was scanning the page as he slowly and carefully started off towards his bedroom.

 

“Find Dad’s dog tags while you were in there?” Dean asked, crossing his arms.

 

Sam smiled and slipped his hand into his pocket, pulling out the long chain, handing it over to Dean. “What do you want with them?” he asked.

 

Dean shrugged and studied the faded words on the metal, before slipping the necklace over his head, slipping it under his shirt. He shivered slightly, the metal cool, and smiled back at Sam. “Dylan said that we should keep them,” he explained. “Makes me wanna pay respect to Dad.”

 

“You think that Dad needs it?” Sam asked, reaching out to stick his finger in Dean’s cooling drink, picking up some whipped cream, bringing it back to his mouth. “Doesn’t he know?”

 

Dean shrugged, patting his chest where the dog tags rested. “Well, this makes me feel better. Okay?”

 

Sam smiled and nodded, pushing himself up out of his chair, leaning as far across the table as he could get. “C’me here,” he said quietly, wetting his lips.

 

Dean sighed and rolled his eyes, pushing himself up much like Sam had, and leaned in, giving Sam a kiss, trying to keep his balance. He swallowed hard and pulled back to meet Sam’s eyes, before kissing him again.

 

“Wait,” Sam said, pulling back. “What’s wrong?”

 

Dean shrugged, sitting back down in his chair. “Uh, nothing,” he replied.

 

Sam snorted and rolled his eyes, still perched on the table. “You are such a bad liar sometimes,” he said.

 

Dean shrugged again. “I don’t know. I just find it weird to talk about respecting Dad and then kiss my brother.” He swallowed, and started picking at the table cloth. “Sorry.”

 

“It’s fine,” Sam said, dropping heavily back onto his chair, staring at Dean’s cup of coffee. “Do you want another one?” he asked, standing up, going over to the counter. “I think I’m gonna make one for myself too.”

 

“Sure,” Dean replied, rubbing at his face. “Another one would be great.”

 

Dylan smiled at the picture of his parents and John in the back of the journal, unsticking it from the back cover. He studied it carefully, running his fingers over the faded figures, reaching into Hunter’s crib, sticking the picture to the wood. “See that, Hunter?” he asked quietly, leaning against the crib. “That there is Grampie, with the baseball hat, and that’s Grandpa, the little boy. And that man is my Grampie, John. Your great-grampie, I suppose.” He smiled and reached down, running his fingers over Hunter’s hair. “I named you after all of them, Hunter.”

 

Hunter’s chest was steadily rising and falling, and she made a quiet noise in her sleep, eyes moving under the lids. 

 

Dylan sighed dreamily and kept smiling, simply watching Hunter. He reached down, brushing his fingers over her stomach. “And they all love you,” he said, withdrawing his hand. “So get a good sleep,” he said, stepping back. “I’ll come back down for you when supper’s ready. Maybe before.” He walked back out of his room, leaning down as he walked to pick up one of Hunter’s toys, tossing it up in the air, setting it down on the couch. “I’ll give it back to you when I’m finished reading it,” he said, going back into the kitchen.

 

Sam shook his head and waved his hand. “It’s not like you’re not going to have time to give it back. You can keep it.”

 

“I uh,” Dylan sat back down, “I took a picture out of the back. Gave it to Hunter.”

 

Sam smiled. “I think that I know which picture that is. And that’s fine.”

 

Dean nodded in agreement. “Yeah, it’s fine. She needs a picture of Dad.” He swallowed, wetting his lips. “So how much food do we have, anyway?” he asked.

 

Dylan shrugged. “I don’t know. Enough to last for a couple of days. My supper tonight, plus you guys won’t be home tomorrow night for supper…grocery shopping Tuesday when you guys get home from work?”

 

“Aw, you’re such a little planner,” Dean grinned, reaching out to pinch Dylan’s cheek playfully. “Tuesday night, Sam?”

 

Sam nodded. “Yeah, sure. Sounds good to me.” He reached back, rubbing his neck gently. “I think that I’m gonna go lay down for a bit. Just get me up when it’s supper, if I’m not back up by then.”

 

“Okay,” Dylan agreed, looking back to watch Sam walk into the bedroom. “Dad?”

 

“What?” Dean asked, turning to look at Dylan.

 

“Well,” Dylan shrugged in the direction of the bedroom, “aren’t you going to go with him?”

 

“Oh!” Dean said, straightening up. “Is this one of these times when I’m supposed to go with him?” He pushed his chair back, quickly following after Sam, closing the bedroom door behind him.

 

“Great,” Dylan muttered, head dropping forward. “Now I’ve got nothing to do.” He sighed and looked around the kitchen, shaking his head slowly. He rubbed his eyes, pushing his chair back. He walked over to the bedroom door and knocked gently, not really wanting to open it without warning.

 

“Yeah?” Sam called.

 

Dylan opened the door a bit, sticking his head in. “I think I’m gonna go for a run or something, kill some time. Can you turn the baby monitor on?”

 

“Sure thing,” Dean agreed, reaching over to the nightstand, picking up the baby monitor, turning it on. “Be safe.”

 

“Sure thing,” Dylan echoed, smiling at his parents, closing the door behind him. He started off down to his room, looking to get changed and find his mp3 player.

 

* * * *

 

Dylan rolled his eyes and stopped, jogging on the spot, going through his father’s play list. “AC/DC, AC/DC, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Blue Öyster Cult…” he sighed, shaking his head. “Journey,” he decided on finally, pressing play. He began running again, singing along in his head. He rounded the corner, eyes immediately going to another young man who was jogging by him.

 

“Hi,” the man said curtly, giving Dylan a nod.

 

Dylan smiled weakly and nodded back, giving a small wave. He ran past him, glancing back, just in time to see the guy also glancing back. Dylan blushed and looked back ahead, trying hard not to grin. He finally laughed to himself, stopping his run. He shook his head in disbelief and pushed his hair back, starting up again. He turned his music up a little louder and quickly glanced both ways, before going across the street.

 

“No, I don’t know, Dad,” Danny said, turning the steering wheel. He sighed, holding his phone up against his ear with his shoulder. “But I told you, I’ll be by tonight. As in, once I’m home from work, showered, changed and--” he rolled his eyes, pressing his foot a little harder on the gas. “Work was fine, Dad,” he replied quietly. “Thank you.”

 

Dylan looked down at his feet, wondering how far he could run without tripping on his shoelaces. He smiled, wondering if he had ever known anybody who tripped on their shoelaces.

 

“No, it’s good,” Danny continued, looking around the neighborhood. “I like my job, Dad. Even though I have to work on Sundays.” He sighed. “We’re Jewish, how does it matter?” He began slowing down, seeing a stop sign coming up.

 

Dylan finally knelt down and let go of his mp3 player, setting it on the sidewalk as he quickly tied his shoelace.

 

Danny drummed his hands on the steering wheel, nodding his head along to the radio. “This probably isn’t very safe, Dad,” he pointed out. “Maybe you should let me--” he cut himself off, looking out the window.

 

Dylan flipped his hair out of his eyes and pushed himself up, walking a couple of steps before he began to jog again, giving the car at the intersection a small wave of thanks, not bothering to look up.

 

“What’s going on?” Todd asked. “You okay?”

 

Danny nodded slowly. “Uh…yeah, I’m fine. I’m seeing things. Are we sure that moving back to Fullerton was a good idea?”

 

“I think it’s fine,” Todd assured him. “Washington’s so blah. Why do you think we moved in the first place?”

 

“I don’t think that it had anything to do with the weather,” Danny said quietly, still sitting at the stop sign, watching Dylan run off, before the car behind him honked loudly. “I gotta go Dad, I’ll see you in a couple of hours.” He turned off his phone and tossed it onto the seat beside him, starting back off to his apartment.

 

* * * *

 

“What’s that?” the young boy asked, pointing up to the shelf. “Who’s that?”

 

Sam smiled and reached up, taking the action figure off the shelf, crouching back down. “This is Bumblebee,” he explained, carefully transforming the toy back into a car.

 

“Whoa,” the boy said, looking up at Sam for permission before taking it from him, examining it. “That’s so cool.”

 

Sam nodded eagerly and straightened up, looking around for the man the kid came in with. “Is that your dad?” he asked, keeping his hand on the boy’s shoulder. 

 

The boy nodded and lifted the action figure up, waving it over at his father. “Daddy!” he called. “Can I get this one?” He began walking over to his father, showing him the toy.

 

“What is this?” the man asked, taking the toy. “Transformers?”

 

Sam nodded. “Yep. Uh, I should probably take that one back though,” he said, carefully reaching out to take it back, “it’s supposed to stay on the shelf. There’s ones in packaging over there though,” he said, nodding towards the front of the store.

 

“You can get one too, Dad,” the boy said, making his way up to the front of the store. “Look at how cool they all are.”

 

“We are shopping for your sister you know, right?” the man asked, even as he began looking over the shelves.

 

“There’s not going to be anything here that a girl will like, Dad,” the boy whined. “It’s a comic book store.”

 

Sam smiled and shook his head gently, putting the Transformer back in it’s original form, setting it on the shelf. “If you want to shop for your daughter here, I’m sure that I can help you find something for her. There are comic books with girls in them.” He rubbed at his eyes. “I mean, of course there are. But there are comic books with females as the lead.”

 

“Why don’t you go look for some of them?” the man asked his son. “And I will get one of these for you.”

 

The boy nodded and began wandering away, going to the graphic novels.

 

Sam gave the man a quick smile and nodded, going back behind the counter. He sighed and leaned against the glass, before spinning around in his chair, looking at the merchandise behind the counter. 

 

“Is this one good enough?” the boy asked, walking back over to his father, who was making his way over to the counter.

 

“Ooh, Wonder Woman,” Sam read, reaching out to take the graphic novel from him, quickly scanning it. “Great choice.”

 

“Just don’t tell her that I got you something too,” the man said, handing Sam the package. 

 

Sam grabbed a bag and slipped the book and the package in, glancing over at the register. “Okay, that’ll be fifty-three seventy-nine,” he said, handing the bag over.

 

“Yeah, here,” the man said, handing over his credit card. He smiled down at his son, handing him the bag. “You hold onto that, ‘kay?”

 

Sam handed the credit card back and gave them both a smile. “Have fun with Bumblebee,” he said. “Hope your sister likes the book.”

 

“Bye,” the boy smiled, giving Sam a wave before he reached up, taking his dad’s hand.

 

Sam sighed and turned back around, looking around for something to cut the tape on one of the boxes. He quickly glanced back when the door chimed and he smiled at Peter, going back to the box. 

 

“Potato skins,” Peter said, setting the package down on the counter for Sam. He looked around the store, taking a sip of his soda. 

 

“Everything is fine, Peter,” Sam assured him, reaching back to grab onto the styrofoam container, setting it on his lap.

 

Peter narrowed his eyes and took a drink, shaking his head slowly. “And here I thought that I told you not to let kids play with the action figures anymore,” he said.

 

Sam sighed and his shoulders slumped, opening his food. “Peter, I was watching him. And I’m the one who transformed it.”

 

“Sam,” Peter said, “we don’t play with them. We sell them. Why would you buy the toy if the nice man behind the counter lets you play with it for free?”

 

“Well, I did sell one,” Sam said, taking a bite of the potato skin, “if it makes you feel any better. And a Wonder Woman graphic novel.”

 

“Ooh, which issue?” Peter asked, leaning against the counter.

 

Sam grinned and turned around. “The Greatest Stories Ever Told,” he replied.

 

“Nice,” Peter grinned, nodding slowly. “Perfect starter. Love that book.” He turned back began walking towards the back, burping softly. 

 

Sam moaned softly as he bit into another potato skin, opening the small container of sour cream. He reached down as his cell phone began to vibrate, pulling it out of his pocket. “Hello?” he asked, quickly swallowing.

 

“Tell me we have another…spit up thing,” Dylan said.

 

“How bad’s the mess?” Sam asked.

 

Dylan sighed. “Where are they? In the closet?”

 

“They're in her changing table,” Sam replied. “Two are in the wash, you’ve got one now…we’ve got a couple more.”

 

“Okay, thanks,” Dylan said, turning off his phone.

 

“Uh…” Sam slowly withdrew his hand, turning off his phone. “Okay, welcome. And goodbye.” He sighed and shoved his phone back in his pocket, going back to his lunch.

 

* * * *

 

“Take her with you,” Dylan groaned, lifting Hunter up from the floor, taking the blanket with her. “Please. I need a nap.”

 

“Of course,” Dean said, reaching out to take Hunter, holding her against his chest. “I’d be happy to take our grandbaby.” He looked over at Sam. “Sam’s so happy too.”

 

Sam smiled and nodded. “We won’t be gone very long though, you know. Like, an hour.”

 

Dylan nodded and leaned down, kissing Hunter’s cheek. “Yeah, I know. But that’s enough. I’m just tired.” He smiled at Hunter, waving down at her. “Daddy’s staying here, Hunter. You be good with Grampie and Grandpa.”

 

“Did you write down everything that you want?” Sam asked, grabbing the list. He quickly scanned it, nodding to himself. “Okay. Have fun.”

 

Dylan smiled and nodded, making his way into the living room, dropping down onto the couch. “Oh yeah, you too.” He grabbed onto one of the pillows, shifting around. 

 

“See ya later,” Dean said, fixing Hunter’s blanket around her, kissing the top of her head. “Let’s go buy some food,” he said, shifting Hunter in his arms.

 

Sam reached out, opening the door for Dean, waving back at Dylan. “Bye, babe.”

 

Dylan stuck his hand up into the air, giving him a quick wave. “Yep,” he muttered, wiggling into the cushions. 

 

Sam laughed softly and shook his head, following Dean outside, sticking his tongue out at Hunter, who had her eyes peering at him from over Dean’s shoulder.

 

* * * *

 

Danny shifted awkwardly, shoving one of his hands in his pockets before he knocked gently with the other, swallowing hard.

 

Dylan groaned softly and rolled onto his back, blinking his eyes a couple of times. He sighed and slowly pushed himself up, scratching at his stomach as he walked out of the living room. “You guys need help with the groceries?” he asked, glancing out into the empty driveway. “Uh…” he opened the door to the porch and stepped out of the kitchen, opening the door to outside.

 

Danny swallowed again and tried to give Dylan a smile, before he just gave up and stood there. “Hi,” he said finally.

 

Dylan blinked a couple of times and yawned, rubbing at his eyes. “Hi.”

 

Danny wet his lips and nodded slowly, shifting on his feet. “Hi.”

 

“What’s going on?” Dylan asked, glancing over Danny’s shoulder. “I mean…no, I mean what’s going on. Why are you here?”

 

Danny shrugged, looking down at his jacket. “We moved back. Me and Dad.”

 

Dylan tried not to roll his eyes, so he just looked down at their feet. “Okay,” he said, looking back up. “Welcome back.”

 

Danny smiled and nodded once. “Thanks. I just…thought I saw you the other day. Running.” He scratched at his head. “I just wanted to say hi. And that I thought you were still at school.”

 

Dylan shook his head. “Came home. Been home, for awhile.” He sighed and looked back into the house, stepping out of the way. “Come on in.”

 

“Thanks,” Danny said, walking past Dylan, looking around the kitchen. He smiled, glancing back at Dylan. “Looks the same.”

 

“My parents aren’t really ones for decorating,” Dylan said quietly, pulling the doors closed behind him. He swallowed and shook his head in disbelief, rubbing at his eyes again. “I think that you’re about the second last person I expected to show up here,” he admitted.

 

Danny laughed softly. “Oh yeah? Who’s the first?”

 

Dylan shook his head, waving his hand. “Nobody.”

 

Danny rolled his lips into his mouth, nodding once. “Right,” he breathed. “I…” he smiled faintly, looking up at Dylan, “I sort of forgot we’re not like that anymore.”

 

Dylan pulled at the hem of his t-shirt, making sure that he was covered. “It’s just good to see you, Danny,” he said eventually. 

 

“I wasn’t really expecting you to be here,” Danny confessed. “I thought for sure I was wrong the other day. Guess not.”

 

“What were you expecting?” Dylan asked suddenly, meeting Danny’s eyes.

 

Danny smiled. “Your parents. Sam-- your mom--”

 

“Sam,” Dylan corrected. “It’s okay.”

 

“Sam,” Danny agreed, “to try and pretend to be nice and your dad trying not to kill me.” 

 

Dylan laughed softly, nodding. “Yeah, that…does make a lot of sense. Guess you got the bum end of the deal then, huh?”

 

Danny shrugged. “No, I wouldn’t say that. But my dad didn’t tell me. That you were here, I mean. Back from…Columbia?”

 

Dylan nodded once, before he frowned. “Why would your dad’ve known?”

 

“Well, he called,” Danny explained. “When we moved back, couple of weeks ago. Or maybe your parents didn’t mention it.”

 

“Your dad talked to my parents?” Dylan asked. “My parents knew?”

 

Danny nodded slowly. “Although…I am now sensing that you didn’t. Which means I just surprised you after five years. Great.”

 

Dylan swallowed hard. “Um, no, it’s fine. I mean, no, I wasn’t expecting you, but…it’s okay.” He sighed, rubbing his forehead. “I really don’t know what else to say.”

 

“Me either,” Danny replied, curling his hands into fists in his pockets. He sighed and looked around, turning to the kitchen window when a car pulled into the driveway. “I guess that’s your parents. Which means I should probably go.”

 

Dylan shook his head. “No, that’s fine. Only one way out really, anyway.” He cleared his throat gently and moved away from the door, giving his parents room to bring the bags and Hunter in.

 

“Guess I’ll say hi then,” Danny said, straightening up. He let out a deep breath as the door opened and he tried to smile, nodding once at Sam.

 

“Holy crap,” Sam said slowly, almost dropping his grocery bags. He laughed nervously, reaching down to set down the groceries, taking a step towards Danny and Dylan. “Um, Dyl?” he asked, glancing over.

 

“They moved back,” Dylan said. “But I think you knew that.”

 

“Ye-- yeah,” Sam nodded, “I did.” He smiled at Danny, walking over to him. “How are you?” he asked, before pulling Danny in for a quick hug.

 

Danny patted Sam’s back, nodding. “I’m great. Good.” He smiled up at him, pulling back.

 

“Who’s that?” Dean asked, trying to balance the grocery bags and Hunter, looking up when Sam stepped back. “Oh,” he said flatly, staring for a couple of moments before continuing on, reaching down to set the groceries down, walking over to Dylan. “If you could take her,” he said, handing Hunter over, “that’d be great.”

 

Dylan nodded and kept his eyes straight ahead, too nervous to look over at Danny.

 

Danny swallowed hard, wetting his lips. “Um, a baby,” he said finally. “Uh…whose-- whose is it?”

 

“She’s not an it,” Dean said, glancing over at Danny. “Her name’s Hunter.”

 

Danny smiled weakly, looking at Hunter’s eyes. “Pretty. Name. And girl.”

 

Dylan shifted her in his arms, kissing her forehead. “She’s mine,” he said finally, rubbing her back gently.

 

“Oh,” Danny said sadly, dropping his eyes. “Right. Of course she is. Duh.” He looked back up, over at Sam. “Uh, I should probably go now. Since I just wanted to say hi.”

 

Dylan’s eyes widened and he reached out for Danny’s arm. “That’s okay. You don’t have to feel awkward. I mean, I think we all are. It’s fine.”

 

Danny smiled, shaking his head. “Yours, huh? Guess that’s why you’re not at school.”

 

Dylan nodded. “Yeah. And-- yeah.”

 

“Is she really yours?” Danny asked. “I mean, I know she’s yours, but--” he looked over at Sam, “did you…are you the mom?”

 

Sam tried not to laugh and he shook his head, following Dean back outside to get more groceries.

 

“No, I’m the dad,” Dylan replied. “She doesn’t really have a mom, to be honest. A mother, yeah, but that’s...not the same.”

 

“You don’t have to tell me this,” Danny assured him, shaking his head. “I mean, I don’t deserve to know. Beautiful baby though, Dylan. I’m happy for you.”

 

“Thank you,” Dylan said quietly, tapping his foot as he waited for his parents to come back in.

 

“Hunter, huh?” Danny asked. “Perfect name for this family.”

 

Dylan nodded. “Yeah, I thought so too,” he said quietly, looking up at his parents when they came back in. “Can I talk to you two for a second?” he asked, trying not to glare.

 

“Gotta put the groceries away,” Dean replied, reaching down to start emptying the bags.

 

“Dean,” Sam said warningly, shrugging off his jacket. “Sure Dylan. Bedroom.” He quickly smiled over at Danny, reaching down to grab onto Dean’s arm.

 

“I’ll just wait here,” Danny said quietly, settling against the counter.

 

“Actually,” Dylan began, glancing at his parents, “can you take her for a second?”

 

Danny’s mouth opened a bit and he began to shake his head. “I’m not good with babies. At all.”

 

“She’s easy,” Dylan assured him, handing Hunter over to him. “I’ll just be a sec.”

 

Danny let out a deep breath, looking down at Hunter, shifting awkwardly. He waited until the Winchesters were away in the bedroom before speaking. “D’ya think your dad knew that I was going sneak out?” he asked.

 

Hunter’s mouth opened a bit and she looked up at Danny, settling against his chest.

 

“You didn’t think that it was fucking important for me to know?” Dylan yelled. “How could you not?”

 

“We knew it was important, Dylan,” Sam said, glancing over at Dean, “but…okay, maybe it wasn’t. He’s been out of your life for five years, and you’ve got a different life now. Different issues. Hunter and Victoria--”

 

“Did you really need to hear about Danny after what happened with Victoria?” Dean asked, interrupting Sam.

 

“I don’t know,” Dylan admitted, “but Jesus, I think that I should be the one who gets to decide that. He was my fiancé, my best friend.”

 

“I think that ‘was’ is the key word there,” Dean snapped. “Dylan, you don’t need this guy in your life right now. Get over Victoria first.”

 

Dylan shook his head. “I don’t need to get over Victoria; I never needed to get over her. I didn’t love her! I was angry at the fact that I let my daughter’s mother walk out of her life.” He sighed, shaking his head. “I just hate that I messed up that badly.”

 

Sam dropped his eyes and Dean sighed, looking at Dylan apologetically. “So what are you going to do?” Sam asked quietly. “With Danny, I mean.”

 

“I don’t know,” Dylan admitted, shaking his head. “But he’s out there, with Hunter. He’s moved back and I plan on being here for the next few years. I can’t just avoid him.”

 

“Go talk to him,” Dean said, crossing his arms. “You need to. Before anything else, just talk to the guy. Find out where each of you stands.”

 

Dylan sighed and looked over at Sam, who was nodding in agreement. “Okay,” he said finally, reaching out to open the bedroom door, stepping out. 

 

“I think I did okay,” Danny said, glancing over. 

 

Dylan smiled and walked over to Danny, reaching out for Hunter, lifting her out of his arms. “How was he, Hunt?” he asked quietly, bouncing Hunter up a bit. “Oh, I’m sure.” He looked over at Danny, wetting his lips. “So where do you live?” he asked. “Do you and your dad live together?”

 

Danny smiled and shook his head. “No, we figured that it was finally time to split up. Dad lives closer than I do. I’m like a…ten minute walk?”

 

Dylan nodded, rolling his lips into his mouth, thinking. “Do you want to go?” he asked, looking up at Danny.

 

“Where?” Danny asked.

 

“To your…apartment,” Dylan replied. “My parents think that we should talk. I have to agree.”

 

“Yeah,” Danny breathed, “me too. I didn’t drive, so when I say ten minute walk…”

 

Dylan shook his head. “It’s fine. Um,” he sighed, “I’ll get Hunter’s stroller ready.”

 

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Danny nodded. “I don’t really know how to do any of that stuff, so I’ll just…let you handle that.”

 

Dylan smiled again and kissed Hunter as he walked to the porch, sighing in relief when he saw that Sam or Dean had brought it in the carrier part of the convertible stroller. He leaned down and set Hunter in the carrier, buckling her in, lifting the carrier up. He snapped it into the place in the stroller and rolled it back and forth a couple of times, smiling down at her. “Ready to go out again?” he asked. “You can go to sleep, babe. I know, it’s tiring.” He stepped out of the porch, looking over at Sam and Dean, who had come out of the bedroom. “I’m gonna go get the diaper bag,” he said, hurrying down to his bedroom.

 

“I don’t remember suggesting that they leave,” Dean murmured, looking up at Sam.

 

Sam shrugged, eyeing Danny as they slowly made their way into the living room. “At least they’re taking Hunter,” he pointed out.

 

“And that’s good why?” Dean asked, sitting down on the couch.

 

Sam looked up when Dylan came back out of his bedroom, swinging the bag back and forth. “I’m working on it,” he replied, slouching down.

 

* * * *

 

“So, tell me about her,” Danny said, glancing back and forth before starting to cross the street. “She can’t be that old.”

 

Dylan smiled down at Hunter and shook his head. “Nope. Almost two months. February fourteenth.”

 

Danny laughed softly. “Sounds like a great Valentine’s Day,” he remarked.

 

Dylan nodded. “It was pretty good,” he agreed. “Other than her birthday, not much to say. Hunter Elisabeth Winchester.”

 

“Who’s Elisabeth?” Danny asked, frowning.

 

Dylan shook his head. “God knows,” he muttered. “Some name Victoria picked out.”

 

“So Victoria is her name, huh?” Danny asked, reaching out for Dylan’s arm. “My place is up here.”

 

Dylan looked around, following Danny up the walk. “Yeah, Victoria,” he replied, nodding in thanks at Danny, who was holding the door open for him. He looked around the entrance, nodding slowly. “Wow. Looks like you’re doing well for yourself.”

 

Danny shrugged, shaking his head. “We can take the elevator, for the stroller,” he said, leading Dylan over to the doors. “Second floor, don’t worry. Not too much.”

 

Dylan sighed and stepped into the elevator, pushing the stroller. “So, you know what I’ve been doing the past few years. What about you?”

 

Danny shrugged, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Not much. School. I almost didn’t do the school the second year, but I did. I started working, and then last month Dad and I decided that we were sick of it. So we moved back.” The doors dinged and Danny led Dylan out of the elevator, digging out his keys. “And this would be my apartment here,” he said, sticking his keys in the lock of the third door on the right.

 

Dylan rocked the stroller back and forth, letting Danny open the door for him again. 

 

“You can just put her stroller wherever,” Danny said, glancing back. He shrugged off his jacket and set his keys down, toeing off his shoes. “Take her out, keep her in. I don’t know how all that works.”

 

Dylan smiled and took off his sneakers, taking the carrier out of the stroller, following Danny into the living room. He looked around the apartment, smiling to himself, setting the carrier down by the couch.

 

Danny dropped down heavily onto the couch, looking up at Dylan. “Sit wherever,” he said, giving him a smile.

 

Dylan swallowed and sat down on the couch, feet by Hunter’s carrier. He kept looking around, rubbing the side of his neck. “Nice place.”

 

Danny nodded. “Yeah, I like it. Cozy. And no Dad, so…bonus.”

 

Dylan laughed softly, nodding. “Yeah, I get that. Well, not really, I guess. I still live with my parents.”

 

“There’s not a problem with that,” Danny assured him. “Besides, I’m two years older. Give it awhile.” He scratched the couch, nodding slowly. “You want something? A drink?”

 

Dylan shook his head, blowing his hair out of his eyes. “No, I’m fine,” he replied. “Thanks anyway.”

 

“Yep,” Danny said quietly, nodding again. “So, why’d you wanna come here? At least with your parents around, there wouldn’t be a lot of awkward silences and small talk.”

 

Dylan shrugged. “To talk, I guess. I just don’t know how to say what I want to say.”

 

“Well, I’ve got time,” Danny smiled. “Lay something on me.”

 

Dylan swallowed, looking down at Hunter, asleep in her carrier. “I left for Columbia hoping you’d show up at the airport to stop me,” he said, looking over at Danny quickly.

 

“You told me that you were over me,” Danny pointed out. “You said that you wanted me to be over you. How was I supposed to know you really wanted me to come back and get you?”

 

“You said that you didn’t think of me,” Dylan said quickly. 

 

“Because that’s what you wanted to hear!” Danny exclaimed. “You called, and ranted, and I remember that it all ended with ‘I need you to say that you don’t think of me’,” he recited. 

 

“I told you that I still loved you!” Dylan cried. “What part of that didn’t you understand?”

 

“Christ Dylan, why am I always the one who has to be able to read between the lines?” Danny asked. “Why can’t you just tell me what you want for once?”

 

Dylan rolled his eyes and shook his head, pushing himself up. “I’m glad you came back, Danny,” he said angrily, “so that I could realize how glad I am that you broke up with me.” He turned to walk away and made it only a couple of steps before Danny turned him and slammed him up against the wall, mouth pressing hard against his. He grasped at Danny’s shoulders, trying to push him off for only a moment before letting Danny grind his hips against his, moaning into Danny’s mouth.

 

“Columbia, huh?” Danny asked, pulling back to start pulling at his t-shirt, yanking it above his head.

 

“Uh-huh,” Dylan nodded eagerly, hands pulling off his own shirt. He took a deep shaky breath before his hands dropped to begin working at his jeans. 

 

“Any hot guys there?” Danny asked, dropping to his knees, looking up at Dylan, pulling his jeans and boxers down to his thighs. He looked up at Dylan, giving him a wink, before he moved his mouth over Dylan’s dick.

 

Dylan grunted quietly, hips pumping just a little.

 

Danny sucked him in, cheeks hollowing, before slowly dragging his mouth back up, swirling his tongue around the head.

 

Dylan cried out loudly, fingers pressing into Danny’s skull, hips working. “You’re the only guy I’ve ever been with,” he managed to get out before his head thumped against the wall and his knees started to buckle. “This is going too fast,” he whispered, closing his eyes. "I need to stop for a sec."

 

Danny pulled off of Dylan and slowly stood up, cupping the back of Dylan’s neck, pulling him in for a soft, gentle kiss. “Is she gonna be okay out here?” he asked, reaching down to link fingers with Dylan.

 

Dylan nodded, kissing Danny again. “She’s asleep,” he said, letting himself get slowly pulled away from the wall, to Danny’s bedroom. “God, your lips,” he groaned, smearing his thumb across Danny’s mouth.

 

Danny playfully nipped at Dylan’s thumb and smiled, falling back onto his bed. He pulled Dylan down along with him, pulling him in for a kiss, rolling Dylan onto his back.

 

Dylan broke the kiss and his head went back, pressing into Danny’s pillows. He spread his legs and brought his knees up, pressing them into Danny’s sides.

 

Danny dropped his head to Dylan’s chest, sucking and licking at his nipples, reaching over to his nightstand, grabbing the lube. “Shit,” he muttered, dropping his eyes.

 

“What?” Dylan asked, lifting his head. 

 

“No condoms,” Danny replied, swallowing hard. “Fuck.” He rested his head against Dylan’s chest, groaning softly. “I don’t fuck without condoms.”

 

“So we won’t fuck,” Dylan smiled, wrapping his legs around Danny’s waist, one of his feet digging into Danny’s ass, trying to pull him in further. “God, just make me come though.”

 

Danny smiled and dropped the lube back down, wiggling down Dylan’s body, getting him to spread his legs a little more. He gave Dylan’s dick a quick suck before moving down further, pressing his hands on Dylan’s thighs.

 

Dylan swallowed hard, feeling himself start to blush. “Danny, you don’t have to,” he informed him, running the pads of his fingers over Danny’s short hair.

 

Danny grinned and nodded, licking his way down, tongue swirling around the puckered skin of Dylan’s hole.

 

Dylan cried out, loud and voice broken, moaning softly, continuously, as Danny worked his tongue into him. He grabbed onto his thighs, spreading himself further for him, hips working against the mattress. His breath was shaky and his eyes were squeezed shut, toes curling.

 

Danny pulled back and moved back up Dylan’s body, kissing every part of Dylan that he could reach as he went, finally back up to Dylan’s mouth.

 

“Am I supposed to let you kiss me now?” Dylan asked breathlessly, letting his feet slowly drop back down to the bed.

 

Danny smiled and licked his lips, leaning down to give Dylan a soft kiss. He curled his fingers into the pillow beside Dylan’s head, their mouth slowly working together. His tongue swept into Dylan’s mouth and he reached between them, grasping onto Dylan’s dick.

 

“God,” Dylan muttered, arching slightly off the bed, slowly dropping back down. He grabbed onto Danny’s arm, feeling the muscles shift beneath his skin and his hand moved up and down Danny’s back, pressing into the skin. “Kiss me ‘gain,” he mumbled, leaning up to capture Danny’s mouth with his own.

 

Danny swallowed hard and licked at Dylan’s lips, working his fist quickly, thumbing under the head. “I never stopped thinking about you,” he breathed, kissing Dylan’s neck. “I thought about calling you back, begging you to take me back.”

 

Dylan’s feet pressed insistently at Danny’s legs and his head tossed back and forth, hips working up into Danny’s grip.

 

“You wanted me to tell you that I hated you,” Danny continued, hand working up and down Dylan’s dick, “but I never could. I never would. I love you too much for that.”

 

Dylan’s breath hitched and his grip on Danny’s arm tightened, the only signs before he came, spilling over onto Danny’s fist, some shooting onto his quivering stomach. He swallowed hard, throat instantly dry and he let Danny stroke him a few moments longer before he squirmed uncomfortably.

 

Danny slowly peeled his fingers off of Dylan, reaching over to wipe them off on his blankets. He swallowed and dropped onto his back beside Dylan, dick still hard, dark and flushed with blood, leaking onto his stomach.

 

“What do you want me to do?” Dylan asked quietly, voice wrecked, pushing himself up on the mattress.

 

Danny shrugged, and tried his best to resist just wrapping his hand around himself and making himself come.

 

Dylan wet his lips and worked his tongue around his mouth, trying to get some saliva back, before moving in between Danny’s legs, leaning down to take him in his mouth, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

 

* * * *

 

Danny rubbed at his eyes and pushed the sheets off his chest as he sat up, looking down at the clock. “You okay?” he asked.

 

Dylan finished pulling on his t-shirt and shook his head. “I didn’t bring Hunter any food. She’s crying; I’ve gotta take her home,” he explained.

 

“Shit,” Danny muttered, slowly sitting up. “Well, go get her; I’ll drive you.”

 

“No, that’s okay,” Dylan said quickly, fixing his clothes. “I can walk.”

 

“At two in the morning?” Danny asked. “Dylan, really, it’s not that hard. Lemme drive you.”

 

“I want to walk,” Dylan snapped, quickly twisting a piece of his hair around his finger. “It’s fine.”

 

Danny sighed. “Then…let me walk with you,” he offered quietly.

 

“Danny, I really don’t think that that’s a good idea,” Dylan admitted finally. “Any of this. I’ve gotta get home, I’ve gotta feed Hunter. I’ve gotta think about this.”

 

“What’s wrong?” Danny asked. “Are-- are you okay?”

 

“I just need to go,” Dylan said. “And I’ll be fine walking; I lived in New York for four years.” He sighed and turned, walking out of Danny’s bedroom.

 

Danny frowned and pulled his blanket off the bed, wrapping it around his waist, following Dylan out into the living room. “You sure?” he asked.

 

Dylan nodded, picking up Hunter’s carrier, snapping it back into the stroller. “I’ll be fine. Who the hell’s out at two in the morning anyway?”

 

Danny swallowed hard, leaning against the doorframe. “Call me when you get home?” he asked hopefully. “Just to let me know that you made it home safe.”

 

“Sure,” Dylan agreed, pulling on his shoes. “If I don’t fall asleep first.”

 

Danny swallowed hard, watching Dylan unlock the apartment door. “I can’t help but think that…I’m being abandoned here. Makes me feel cheap.”

 

Dylan looked over at Danny, ready to push Hunter out the door. “You’re not cheap, Danny,” he assured him quietly. “And I’d love to stay, but I just...have different priorities now. And my number one priority is hungry, so I have to take her home.”

 

Danny nodded understandingly, holding the sheet up with one hand to give Dylan a wave. “Okay. Maybe I’ll see you later then.” He shifted, giving Dylan a quick smile.

 

Dylan breathed, nodding slowly. “Yeah. Maybe,” he agreed, pushing Hunter out of the apartment. He looked back in as he pulled the door closed, trying to smile back.

 

Danny swallowed hard and shook his head, sliding down the wall. He huffed and adjusted the sheets around his lap, head thunking back against the wall.

 

* * * *

 

Dylan smiled and shifted Hunter on his lap, leaning forward slightly to let her play with the book. He smiled and kissed her cheek, moving closer to the table. He sighed and flipped the page for her, another picture popping up.

 

Hunter made a small sound and reached out again, fingers curling into tiny fists. 

 

“Whassat?” Dylan asked, bringing the book onto his lap with her. “Wow Hunt, what’s that? Bunny rabbit!”

 

Dean walked into the living room, tossing the phone onto the coffee table. “Your boyfriend called again,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “You actually gonna take it eventually?”

 

Dylan dropped his eyes and shook his head, turning the page again. “I don’t know what to say anymore. Not after that. That’s not what I went there for.”

 

Dean sighed, sitting down beside Dylan, stretching his arms up above his head. “Well, I told you to talk to him, not sleep with him. So maybe actually talk to him before you cut him out of your life completely.”

 

Dylan rolled his eyes. “He’s already been cut out of my life. He shouldn’t’ve come back.”

 

“Hey, as much as I hate the fact that he broke up with you,” Dean began, leaning forward, “he grew up here. He deserves to be here just as much as you do.”

 

“I don’t wanna talk about this anymore,” Dylan muttered, closing the book. He lifted Hunter up as he stood, walking out of the living room. 

 

“Hey, kiddo!” Dean called after him. 

 

“Yeah?” Dylan asked, not even turning around.

 

“Happy birthday,” Dean said quietly, giving him a small smile.

 

* * * *

 

“Whatever it is,” Dylan said, blindly letting Sam lead him outside, “you can take it back. Buy something more important.”

 

“We got you what we got,” Sam said, smiling at Dylan, “and I hope that you’ll like it.” He quickly kissed Dylan’s cheek, letting go of his arm. “Open your eyes.

 

Dylan sighed and shifted, slowly opening his eyes. “Oh my god,” he said, shaking his head gently, “you got me a car.”

 

“Don’t you like it?” Dean asked, bouncing Hunter up in his arms, getting a better grip on her. “We thought that you deserved one.”

 

Dylan shook his head again, wiping at his eyes. “I don’t. I don’t want it. Take it back. It cost too much.”

 

“You don’t know what it cost,” Sam pointed out.

 

“It’s a car,” Dylan cried, “whatever it cost it cost too much. I don’t need this.” He shook his head in disbelief, looking up at Sam. “You guys should buy something else with this.”

 

Sam sighed and reached out, pulling Dylan in towards him, wrapping his arms around his shoulder. “Now Dylan, you’re not going to deny your parents an opportunity to see you happy now, are you?”

 

“I just don’t think that this is the best thing you guys could spend your money on,” Dylan muttered, closing his eyes, settling back against Sam.

 

“No, probably not,” Sam admitted, “but it is our money. And twenty-two years ago, I had to get sliced open to give birth to you. Which means that I get to spend my money however I want on your birthday.”

 

“If I had known that you were going to keep using that against me,” Dylan began, “I would’ve stayed in there.”

 

Dean laughed softly and walked over to the car, reaching out to run his fingers over the door, smiling at Hunter. “Pretty, huh?” he asked. “Look at Daddy’s present. Except Daddy doesn’t want it, so look at Grampie’s present.”

 

“C’mon, Dylan,” Sam said softly, leading Dylan down the driveway, away from Dean. He sighed, kissing Dylan’s temple. “What’s going on here?” he asked finally. “And why don’t you want our present?”

 

“Because there are so many other things that you could’ve spent the money on,” Dylan pointed out.

 

Sam nodded. “Yeah, I know there is. But there are so many other things we could’ve spent any money on. This house? Yeah, we could’ve put all that money into our motel room. Those clothes you’re wearing? Well, I did need to pay that phone bill this month…”

 

“I think I get your point,” Dylan said flatly, looking up at Sam. “But it’s stupid.”

 

“That’s okay,” Sam grinned. “I want you to be happy this birthday, Dylan. Be happy. Take our present.”

 

Dylan shook his head and wiped at his eyes again. “It’s too much money. It doesn’t matter. I just…Mom, just take it back.” He shrugged Sam off of him, walking back up the driveway.

 

“Dylan, however much you think this car cost,” Sam began, following after Dylan, “it didn’t. It wasn’t that much money. And like I’ve told you, time and time again, we’re not broke. No, we’re not rich, but a car is an investment. Would I spend this much money on a pair of jeans? No. But this is car and car’s cost money, it’s a fact of life.”

 

Dylan stormed up the steps, going back into the house. “I don’t want it. I don’t want to drive that knowing how much my parents spent on it. It should be my money. I shouldn’t be depending on you guys anymore.”

 

“Dylan, I want you to have this car,” Sam said. “I really do. I never had my own. I think that you should have one.”

 

Dylan looked back at Sam, finally stopping. “You never had your own?” he asked.

 

Sam shook his head. “No. Dad and Dean drove me everywhere before Stanford. When I was away, I walked, or took cabs or buses or…then Dean came and picked me up and it was his Impala. Then it was our ‘family’ car.” He smiled, reaching out for Dylan. “Don’t you like it?” he asked quietly.

 

Dylan smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I do. I mean, it’s nice. I like it. It’s not what I expected. Or what I think I need.”

 

Sam sighed and nodded. “How many things do you really get that you do need?” he asked. “But I want you to have it. And Dean was so excited to pick it out.”

 

Dylan grinned, nodding to himself. “Yeah, I can only imagine. He’s such a car guy. I’m glad it made him happy.”

 

Sam smiled. “You know just ‘cause you have your own car now, doesn’t mean that we can’t drive you too. If that’s what you’re worried about.”

 

Dylan smiled, shaking his head. “No, that’s not it. I do like it though, thank you.” He looked up when Dean walked back into the house. “And thanks to you too, Dad,” he said, walking over to pull Dean into a quick hug, careful not to press hard against Hunter.

 

“So I don’t get to keep it?” Dean asked sadly.

 

Dylan smiled. “No, I don’t know. I think Mom’s convinced me to want to keep it,” he admitted.

 

“Sam,” Dean whined, walking by Dylan. “I thought we agreed.”

 

Sam laughed and shook his head, pulling Dean in. “No, Dean, sorry. You agreed, not me.”

 

“But it’s beautiful,” Dean cried, burying his face in Sam’s neck, “and I miss my baby.”

 

Dylan smiled and shifted on his feet. “Uh, where are the keys?” he asked, looking around the kitchen.

 

“In the car,” Sam replied, patting Dean’s back comfortingly. “You gonna take her for a drive?” he asked.

 

Dylan thought for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. Just a spin around the block,” he said.

 

Dean lifted his head from Sam’s chest, blinking a couple of times. “Tell Danny we said hi,” he said softly, leaning back against Sam.

 

Dylan cleared his throat gently and looked away uncomfortably, slowly walking back out of the house.

 

* * * *

 

“Hi,” Danny said quietly, leaning against his doorframe. “I was really wondering if you were ever going to come back.”

 

Dylan smiled weakly, nodding slowly. “I think that what we did was the last thing I ever saw myself doing again,” he admitted.

 

“That bad, huh?” Danny smiled, only half-joking.

 

Dylan shook his head, reaching out to curl his fingers around the door knob, smiling at Danny. “No. It was great.”

 

“Glad to hear it,” Danny said, nodding once. “So what can I do for you now?” he asked, shifting on his feet.

 

“I’m sorry that I made you feel cheap,” Dylan apologized softly, meeting Danny’s eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t take your calls. I’m sorry that it took a week for me to come back here.”

 

Danny shrugged. “Hey, it took me five years to come back here. I win,” he smiled. “D’you bring Hunter?” he asked.

 

Dylan shook his head slowly. “Thought I should come alone,” he replied. “I mean…not because of that. But my parents can take of her for awhile. We need to talk.”

 

Danny nodded understandingly. “Yeah, I know. Helluva side-track last time though, huh?” he teased, moving out of the way to let Dylan in.

 

Dylan smiled and blushed, looking around the apartment, getting a different feel for it in the day. He looked back when Danny closed the door behind them.

 

“You okay?” Danny asked, looking to Dylan, hand still on the door knob.

 

Dylan nodded, slowly walking back over to Danny, swallowing hard before gently pressing Danny up against the door, giving him a kiss.

 

Danny smiled against Dylan’s mouth, pressing one hand against the small of Dylan’s back, pushing his fingers through Dylan’s hair.

 

Dylan pulled back, meeting Danny’s eyes, before kissing him again. “We have to talk,” he said quietly, stepping back from Danny.


	43. Chapter 42

Title: Look What Love Has Done - Volume 3 - Chapter 42

Pairing: Sam/Dean, OMC/OMC

Disclaimer: Not mine

Rating: NC-17 this chapter

Summary: Dylan and Danny are loving getting familiar with each other again; Dean thinks he and Sam are finally at the perfect point in their relationship.

Author's Note: Forget volume one, forget volume two; this is volume three 

 

 

twenty-two years, three months and eleven days old

 

Danny laughed softly as he leaned down, moving his mouth over Dylan’s shoulder blades, palms pressing into the small of his back. “Love you,” he murmured, pushing in further to reach out, breath warm on Dylan’s ear.

 

Dylan pressed his head into the pillows, moaning softly. “Uh-huh,” he agreed breathlessly, arching his back with every thrust of Danny’s hips. He moved his hands from the bed and put all of his weight on one shoulder as he reached down, grasping onto his dick.

 

“Hey, hey,” Danny whispered, shaking his head, sliding his hand down and around Dylan’s hip, wrapping his fingers around Dylan at the base, “let me take care of you.”

 

Dylan nodded and dropped his hand back down to the bed, curling into the sheets when Danny thrust in again. “Kay,” he said, eyes fluttering a couple times, watching the wall.

 

Danny leaned down, chest pressing against Dylan’s back, still thrusting gently. “That wall can’t possibly be more interesting than me, can it?” he teased, kissing Dylan.

 

Dylan smiled, blushed and shook his head. “Not a lot is,” he replied quietly, hips working back against Danny’s.

 

Danny smiled and nudged Dylan’s cheek, getting him to look up. He gave him a kiss, tongue sweeping into Dylan’s mouth.

 

Dylan pushed himself up, neck and back awkwardly bent, trying to keep the kiss going. He pulled back, needing to get back into a comfortable position. “God,” he breathed, body jerking when Danny palmed the head of his dick. 

 

Danny gently bit Dylan’s back, just so he could soothe the skin with his tongue. “C’mon Dylan, why don’t you just come?” he asked.

 

“I can’t do it on command, Danny,” Dylan muttered, pressing his forehead back to the bed. “Why don’t you just make me come?” he asked.

 

Danny grinned and leaned back, pulling out of Dylan, wiping at his forehead.

 

Dylan groaned loudly, dropping onto the bed. “I really don’t think that I see where this is going,” he cried, letting Danny push him onto his back. He arched up a little when Danny pushed back in, legs going up onto Danny’s shoulders. “Harder,” he moaned, nails scrapping across Danny’s chest.

 

“Harder?” Danny asked, getting up on his knees, holding Dylan’s legs up by their thighs. “You past the talking dirty thing yet?” he asked, working his hips into Dylan as hard as he could. 

 

“I think I’m getting a leg cramp,” Dylan muttered to himself, closing his eyes.

 

Danny sighed loudly and let go of Dylan’s legs, letting them drop back down onto the bed. He leaned down, shifting between Dylan’s legs, and kissed Dylan, moving their mouths together slowly. 

 

Dylan smiled against Danny’s mouth, wrapping an arm around Danny’s neck, holding him close while his other hand started working up and down Danny’s back, kneading the skin.

 

Danny pulled back and moved his mouth down Dylan’s chest, working his way down to his nipple, sucking the hard nub into his mouth.

 

Dylan’s hand flexed into Danny’s back and he cried out quietly, finally coming. “Yes,” he breathed, panting harshly into Danny’s ear. He brought his legs up, feet pressing into Danny’s ass. “Your turn,” he whispered, sucking Danny’s earlobe into his mouth.

 

Danny’s hips stuttered into Dylan and he pushed himself up on one arm, trying to thrust a little harder as Dylan continued clenching around him. He closed his eyes and his breath stopped just as he came, filling the condom, pulsing inside Dylan.

 

Dylan smiled and kissed Danny’s forehead, keeping him close. “You can start to breathe now,” he reminded him gently, shifting on Danny’s dick.

 

Danny dropped down onto Dylan’s chest, resting on him. He opened his eyes and blinked a couple of times, hips jerking weakly. He shivered, the sweat on his body cooling and he snuggled into Dylan’s chest. He smiled and turned his head, kissing Dylan’s skin. “Tell me that you don’t have to go home yet,” he said hopefully, looking up at Dylan.

 

Dylan smiled and shook his head. “No, I think that we’ve got time,” he replied, wrapping his arm around Danny’s shoulders. “Just…let me get a little nap before I have to go back,” he murmured sleepily.

 

“Do you get any sleep with Hunter around?” Danny asked, reaching down to grasp onto the condom as he slowly pulled out. He sat up and carefully pulled the condom off, tying it off before throwing it into the garbage. 

 

“Just enough,” Dylan replied, rolling onto his side.

 

“Just enough for what?” Danny asked, moving over to the other side of the bed, curling up behind Dylan.

 

Dylan reached down and linked fingers with Danny, holding their hands up to his chest. “Just enough,” he began, yawning softly, “not to die.” He groaned quietly and let out a deep breath.

 

Danny smiled weakly and kissed Dylan’s cheek, propping himself up on his elbow to watch him slowly drift off to sleep.

 

* * * *

 

“Is he sleeping again?” Dean asked quietly, nudging Sam.

 

Sam glanced back at Dylan, smiling. “Yeah, he might be,” he agreed, turning back to the bowl in front of him. “Oh well.”

 

Dean watched Dylan for a few moments longer, before shrugging. “Yeah, oh well,” he agreed, pushing himself up onto the counter. “So what type of cake is this?” he asked.

 

“It’s a cheesecake, Dean,” Sam replied, glancing over at the clock.

 

“So what’s with all the chocolate?” Dean asked, reaching out to dip his finger into the bowl. “Is it chocolate cheesecake?”

 

“It’s a Boston cream cheesecake,” Sam replied, lightly tapping Dean’s finger with the spoon. “And this chocolate goes on the top once the cake is finished baking.”

 

“Ooh,” Dean said, leaning down to give Sam a quick kiss, “so how much of it do I get to eat?” he asked.

 

“One-fifth,” Sam replied, looking up at Dean. “Because it’s not ours.”

 

“One-fifth just isn’t doing it for me, Sam,” Dean replied. “What about one-half? What do I gotta do to get one-half?”

 

Sam thought for a moment, cocking his head to the side. “Um, make your own?” he offered, grinning up at Dean. “Because this isn’t ours.”

 

“But I want it to be mine,” Dean whined, rocking back and forth on the counter. “Make me one? Please?”

 

“Get off the counter if you’re going to whine,” Sam said. “And while you’re at it, check on the cake in the oven.”

 

Dean pouted and leaned against the cupboard, watching Sam continue stirring the icing, reaching out for vanilla. “I love you,” he offered quietly, sitting back up.

 

Sam mixed in the vanilla and smiled up at Dean. “I know that you do. I love you too.” He leaned up, giving him another kiss. “Now will you get the powdered sugar for me?”

 

Dean wet his lips and nodded eagerly, dropping off of the counter. “Ouch,” he muttered, pain shooting up from his ankle as he walked over, grabbing the package of sugar. “How much do you need?” he asked, eyeing the measuring cups.

 

Sam smiled over at him. “Just one cup, please,” he replied, dipping his finger into the bowl, tasting the icing so far.

 

Dean opened the package and reached out for the cup, carefully filling it. “And where do you want this?” he asked, holding up the cup.

 

Sam stepped back and nodded at the bowl. “In here, please,” he replied.

 

Dean smiled at Sam and dumped the sugar into the bowl, reaching out for the wooden spoon, taking it from Sam. “I got this,” he replied, “you can check on your cake.” He began mixing the sugar in, leaning back when Sam wrapped his arms around him, gently rocking back and forth.

 

“Mm, baby I love your way,” Sam sang softly, kissing the back of Dean’s neck.

 

Dean smiled and shivered, chills running down his spine. “Dylan still asleep?” he asked, tilting his head upwards, kissing the bottom of Sam’s chin.

 

Sam smiled and glanced over at Dylan, who had in his head propped up by one of his hands, eyes closed. “Yeah, I think so,” he replied, unwrapping himself from Dean to go over to the oven.

 

“Is Hunter ever going to stop crying at night?” Dean asked, still stirring as he watched Sam check on the cake. “I thought that the doctors said colic would be gone by now.”

 

“Well, it isn’t,” Sam replied, closing the oven. “Or it was and then it just moved into teething. Either way, she cries. That’s what kids do.”

 

“I don’t ever remember Dylan crying that much,” Dean remarked, bringing the wooden spoon up this mouth, quickly tasting the icing. “But I guess…all of that was just different.” He smiled up at Sam. “Anyway, how long till your cake is ready to be iced?”

 

“I think just a few more minutes,” Sam replied, nodding. “Thank you for your help.”

 

“Not a problem,” Dean said, dropping the spoon back into the bowl. “So what do you say? Some over-the-clothes action until it’s ready?” he offered.

 

Sam laughed softly and shook his head, walking past Dean, going over to Dylan. He pulled out the chair beside him and sat down, reaching out to run his fingers over Dylan’s hair. “Dyl, baby?” he asked quietly.

 

Dylan’s hand fell out from underneath him and he jerked him awake, looking quickly over to Sam. “What’s going on?” he asked, straightening up. “Was I asleep?”

 

“For a few minutes now,” Sam replied, smiling at him. “Are you gonna go down to bed?” he asked. 

 

Dylan shook his head, sniffing the air. “Cake smells good. Thanks for making it.”

 

“Not a problem,” Sam assured him, leaning forward to brush Dylan’s hair away from his forehead, giving him a kiss. “At least go lay down on the couch so you don’t get a crick in your neck,” he said quietly.

 

Dylan nodded as he yawned, pushing his chair back from the table. “Will it be ready for tonight?” he asked, looking back at Sam.

 

Sam looked at the clock and nodded. “Yeah, sure will be. Don’t worry about it.”

 

“Kay,” Dylan nodded, walking into the living room, sitting down on the couch. 

 

Sam smiled at Dylan and stood back up, walking back over to the oven. “Do we wanna put fruit on it?” he asked, looking at Dean.

 

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know. Would that work? Have you ever seen Boston cream donuts with fruit in ‘em?”

 

Sam shrugged. “I don’t know. Couldn’t hurt anyway. Pick a fruit.”

 

“Lemons,” Dean replied. “Decorative lemons. There’s lemons in the cream, isn’t there?” he asked.

 

“Sounds good,” Sam agreed, nodding. “Will you take the cake out in five minutes if I’m not back by then?” he asked, grabbing the car keys and his wallet before slipping his sneakers on.

 

“Of course,” Dean smiled, leaning up to give Sam a kiss, gently cupping his cheeks. “And bring me home some beer while you’re at it.”

 

“You have beer,” Sam replied, walking to the door, reaching out for the knob, “it’s in the fridge. And you’re not getting drunk for tonight.”

 

“Todd might appreciate a good brewski,” Dean argued, nodding at Sam.

 

“Oh, a good beer?” Sam repeated. “Okay sure, I’ll pick up something Canadian.” He grinned at Dean, walking out the door.

 

Dean’s jaw dropped and he ran to the door after him. “Oh, you did not just insult our nation, Sam! Don’t you even dare!” he yelled, leaning against the doorframe. “But I mean…if you do dare…maybe some of that Molson.” He quickly closed the door and walked back over to his bowl of icing.

 

* * * *

 

“Fire up some shrimp on the barbie!” Dean called, raising his bottle of beer.

 

“I think that it’s chicken,” Sam informed him, leaning forward as he took a drink of his own beer.

 

“Fire up some chicken on the barbie!” Dean corrected, before laughing loudly. He shook his head and leaned forward, giving Sam a kiss. “God, I love chicken.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes and smiled, reaching out for a handful of chips. “Dylan, where’s Hunter?” he called, head tilting back.

 

“She’s fine,” Danny replied, walking around in the pool, holding Hunter up to his chest. “She loves the water.”

 

Dean lifted his head and Sam turned around, watching Danny with Hunter. They both smiled and Sam reached out, grasping Dean’s hand in his.

 

Danny grinned and leaned down, letting Hunter’s back dip into the water, watching her feet kick and her fingers clench. “Did I tell you how pretty you look today, Hunt?” he asked gently, lifting her back up, giving her a soft kiss. “‘Cause you do.”

 

Dylan came up out of the water beside Danny, causing him to jump.

 

“Jesus,” Danny breathed, turning away when Dylan shook his head, water spraying everywhere. “You’re going to get her wet.”

 

“She’s in a pool,” Dylan pointed out breathlessly, reaching out to take Hunter from Danny. “Baby doesn’t mind, does she?” he asked, letting Hunter grab onto his fingers. “How is Hunter doing anyway? Are you okay with her?” he asked, looking back over at Danny.

 

Danny nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Getting better,” he answered.

 

“I’m happy,” Dylan said quietly, leaning in to give Danny a quick kiss. He looked down at Hunter, giving her a kiss of her own. 

 

Danny smiled and dropped his eyes, before turning in the water, looking over to Todd. “Need any help, Dad?” he asked, going over to the edge.

 

Todd grinned and shook his head, looking down at Danny. “No, kiddo, I’m fine. You want your chicken a little burnt?” he asked, poking at the chicken in the barbecue.

 

Danny nodded eagerly. “Just the way I like the skin. Thanks, Dad.”

 

“Hey, it’s your birthday, not mine,” Todd said, closing the lid on the barbecue. 

 

Danny looked up at Todd and held his arms open. “Wanna give me my birthday hug?” he asked hopefully.

 

Todd laughed and shook his head, reaching back for his glass. “Uh, so you can pull me into pool and everybody can laugh?” He crouched down, smiling at Danny. “Uh, no.”

 

Danny sighed and rolled his eyes before reaching out, yanking Todd into the pool anyway.

 

Sam and Dean looked up at the loud splash, hearing Danny laughing loudly as Todd pushed himself back up on the ledge of the pool, soaking wet. 

 

Danny stopped laughing, biting his mouth to try and stop smiling. “Sorry, Dad,” he apologized quietly, stepping back from the ledge.

 

Todd sighed and shook his head, water flying as he stood up. He looked down at his clothes and frowned, before finally just shrugging and pulling off his t-shirt, throwing it Danny.

 

“Woo-hoo!” Dean called, giving Todd a whistle. “Sexy! I’ve been waiting years for this.”

 

Todd laughed and turned around a couple of times, flexing for Dean. “Just for that, Danny, I ain’t burning your chicken.”

 

“Oh, come on, Dad,” Danny whined, glancing back at Dylan. “It’s my birthday.”

 

“Twenty-four-year-olds can make their own chicken,” Todd said, opening the barbecue. He stared at Danny for a couple moments longer before his shoulders slumped. “Okay fine, you’ll get your chicken.”

 

Danny grinned and nodded. “Thanks, Dad,” he said, swimming back over to Dylan and Hunter. “Love you!”

 

“Love you too,” Todd said, flipping the pieces of chicken.

 

Danny smiled down at Hunter, that smile turning into a grin when she looked back up at him. “Hi,” he said quietly, looking to Dylan. “Can I hold her again?” he asked.

 

Dylan grinned back at Danny and nodded, carefully handing Hunter back over to him. “You be good now, Hunter,” he said, swimming backwards, “Danny’s not used to it.” He slipped back under the water, swimming down to the bottom.

 

Danny smiled and began humming softly, rubbing Hunter’s back gently. “Don’t listen to him, honey,” he whispered, glancing back at Sam and Dean, “I’m getting a lot better.”

 

“So where’s this cake you guys were supposed to make?” Todd asked, looking back at Sam and Dean as he started taking pieces of chicken off the barbecue.

 

“We put it in your fridge,” Sam replied, “when we came in.”

 

“Cheesecake?” Todd asked. “I love cheesecake.”

 

“You told us that Danny loves cheesecake,” Dean said, taking a sip of his drink.

 

“Oh, did I?” Todd asked, turning back to the barbecue. “I must’ve misspoke.”

 

“Does he even eat cheesecake?” Dean asked.

 

Todd shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m sure that he will. And if he doesn’t, there’s an ice cream cake in the freezer too. And I got Hunter bananas. Baby food bananas.”

 

Sam smiled over at Dean. “See, that’s sweet. And we had fun making that cake anyway.”

 

Todd turned off the barbecue and picked up the big tray of chicken, walking it over to the table, setting it down in the middle. “Just take what you want, birthday boy gets first pick. And I’ll go get the drinks and the fries that were in the oven.”

 

Dean looked up at Todd. “Cake?” he asked quietly.

 

“After,” Todd said, smiling at Dean as he made his way across the deck and into the house.

 

“Out of the pool!” Sam called over towards Dylan, waving his hand. “And you wanna get her high chair out of the car?”

 

“Sure thing,” Dylan replied, pushing himself up out of the water. “Be right back.”

 

Danny slowly walked out of the pool, grasping onto the railing as he walked up the stairs, going over to the table. 

 

“Aw, lemme see my baby,” Dean said, reaching up to take Hunter from Danny. “Oh, hello,” he said quietly, letting her rest against his stomach, sitting on his lap, “how was that? Was that fun?”

 

Hunter flapped one of her arms, hitting Dean’s leg a couple of times. Drool started to run out of her mouth and she looked up at Dean helplessly.

 

“Lemme get that for you,” Dean said quietly, reaching out for a piece of paper towel. He smiled and gently wiped off her chin, giving her a kiss. “Much better, gorgeous.”

 

Danny pulled his chair out from the table and sat down, picking up a couple pieces of chicken, setting them down on his plate. He moved his chair over, giving Dylan room to set Hunter’s high chair down. 

 

“Okay Dad, you’ve gotta give her up now,” Dylan said, leaning down to lift Hunter off Dean’s lap, sitting her down in her high chair, buckling her in. He smiled and sat down, looking up when Todd sat a small spoon and a jar of baby food on the table of her high chair. “Thanks,” he smiled, opening the jar. “Yummy Hunter, bananas. Look what Uncle Todd got you, bananas.” He spooned out a little, holding it up to Hunter’s mouth.

 

Todd smiled proudly and took his seat at the table, picking up a piece of chicken. “I’m an uncle,” he said to himself, taking a bite of his large homemade fries.

 

“Happy birthday, Dan,” Sam said, looking over at Danny. “Has it been a good one?”

 

Danny nodded, chewing thoughtfully on his chicken. “Sure has,” he replied, once he swallowed. “Thanks for coming. And for the cake.”

 

Sam smiled and reached out, taking a sip of his beer. “It was our pleasure,” he assured him, grabbing a piece of chicken.

 

* * * *

 

Dylan squeezed his eyes shut and sniffled, not wanting to cry. 

 

“You okay, kiddo?” Sam asked quietly, gently rubbing Dylan’s back. “It’ll be okay.”

 

“I’m just tired,” Dylan explained, wrapping his arms around himself. “I don’t know if I can take any more nights with her crying.”

 

Sam smiled and nodded, leaning down to kiss Dylan’s cheek. “It’ll get better. She’s teething.”

 

Dylan nodded, wiping his eyes. “Make it be finished. I’m exhausted.”

 

Sam sighed and laid down behind Dylan, frowning slightly. “I know that she’s a crier, Dylan, but it’ll get better. All kids stop crying eventually.” He leaned forward, kissing the back of Dylan’s head.

 

Dylan nodded again and sniffled, turning around to curl into Sam’s chest, grasping onto his shirt. “If I was ever like this with you, I’m really sorry.”

 

Sam wrapped his arms around Dylan, holding him close. “It’ll be okay. Just sleep. Let’s just sleep, okay? Close your eyes.”

 

Dylan nodded tiredly and settled against Sam, yawning loudly. “What time is it?” he asked, sniffling.

 

“Five thirty-seven,” Sam replied quietly, pulling the bed sheets up around them, yawning himself. “Couple more hours before I have to get up again. C’mon, let’s sleep.”

 

“Yeah,” Dylan agreed, sliding one of his hands under his pillow, a couple of tears finally spilling over, running down his cheeks.

 

Sam sighed and began twisting pieces of Dylan’s hair around his fingers, kissing his forehead. “It’ll be okay,” he assured him again, rubbing gently at his eyes. “Trust me, I know. And I wish that I knew that when you were her age.”

 

Dylan swallowed and rolled over onto his other side, staring at the wall, before his eyes finally began to drift closed.

 

* * * *

 

Danny reached down and lifted Hunter up off the floor, smiling over at Sam and Dean. “Is it really that bad?” he asked, holding Hunter up to his chest.

 

“I don’t think so,” Dean replied, taking a sip of coffee.

 

Sam yawned loudly and nodded, stretching his arms out above his head. “Well, of course you don’t think so Dean, you don’t ever get up with her. Or him.” He looked back at Danny. “Thank you for coming over though.”

 

Danny nodded, looking down at Hunter. “I don’t go to work for a few hours anyway. He’ll…he’ll be up before then, right?” he asked.

 

Sam looked over at Dean, who shrugged. “Maybe,” Dean replied, standing up. “C’mon Sam, we gotta get to work.”

 

“So you know how to change her and feed her and stuff, right?” Sam asked, following Dean out of the living room.

 

“Uh,” Danny looked down at Hunter, “not really, no.”

 

Sam shrugged, pulling on his jacket. “Well, it’s really not that hard. Just try and keep her quiet; let Dylan get up when he wants to.”

 

“Sure thing,” Danny agreed. “I’ll just…watch TV or something. On low.” He gave Sam a quick smile and Dean a curt nod. “Okie dokie, Hunter, wave bye-bye.” He lifted Hunter up, letting her tiny feet dig into his lap, gently grasping onto her wrist to help her wave.

 

Dean smiled and waved behind him, finishing pulling on his jacket as he slipped out the door. “Call if you need anything,” he said before the door closed behind him.

 

“Sure thing,” Danny said quietly, smiling when Hunter’s tiny hand curled into her hair. “Careful, don’t wanna pull any out,” he said, carefully pulling her fingers away from her hair. “Pretty hair,” he said. He smiled as he studied her carefully, letting her sit back down on his lap. “You look like your Grandpa,” he said finally, sticking his tongue out when Hunter looked up at him.

 

Hunter reached out, leaning over to the side as she grabbed at the couch, trying to push off of Danny.

 

“Oh, okay,” Danny said, lifting Hunter off his lap, laying her down on the couch. “Let’s see what’s on TV, shall we?” he asked, reaching out for the remote. “What do kids your age watch these days?”

 

Hunter dug her feet into the couch and stuck her bum up in the air before falling back down, giggling.

 

Danny couldn’t help but smile along with her, reaching out to help her sit up. “Do you watch TV with Daddy?” he asked, holding out the remote to her.

 

Hunter’s eyes widened and she took the remote, opening her mouth wide.

 

“Okay, I see how you play,” Danny said, taking the remote back from her. “I get the feeling that Grandpa wouldn’t be too happy about you putting that in your mouth.”

 

Hunter pouted up at Danny, trying to grab the remote back. 

 

Danny sighed and looked around for a pacifier of some kind. “Do you just want a toy?” he asked, looking around. He sighed again and reached down, simply picking up the blanket that Hunter had been lying on. He draped it around her shoulders, lifting her up onto his lap. “You know, you don’t seem that bad. What are you doing to your daddy when nobody’s around?”

 

Hunter brought the corner of her blanket into her mouth, wiggling against Danny.

 

* * * *

 

Dylan slowly opened his eyes, immediately looking over to his clock. He smiled when he realized that he managed to actually get some sleep and stretched out in his bed, rolling onto his back. He laughed softly to himself and felt elated, finally caught up on sleep for once. He slowly sat up, not really wanting to leave his bed but he pushed his sheets off him anyway, feet dropping to the floor. He scratched at his stomach and glanced in Hunter’s crib, stomach sinking a little when he realized she wasn’t in it. “Mom?” he called, hurrying over to his bedroom door. “Dad?” he asked, going down the hall, stopping when he saw feet hanging off the end of the couch. 

 

Danny snored softly, one hand resting protectively on Hunter’s back, lips smacking in his sleep.

 

Hunter brought her foot up, trying to grab onto it, whining when she looked up and saw Dylan.

 

Dylan sighed in relief and leaned down, lifting Hunter off of Danny’s chest, sitting her on his hip. “What’s Danny doing here?” he asked quietly, watching Danny roll onto his side once the weight was off his chest. “Did Grampie and Grandpa head out?” He watched Hunter, smiling as he paused for a couple of moments. “No, you don’t know, do ya?” He picked up Hunter’s blanket and looked down at Danny again as he walked out of the living room, setting Hunter down in her high chair, giving her her blanket to play with. “I know that you can be a good girl for me while I run to the bathroom, so just be careful and Daddy’s gonna be right back.”

 

Danny snorted himself awake and his hands instantly went to his chest, eyes going wide as he looked around. He quickly stood up and looked around the living room, running his hand over his short hair before he saw Hunter sitting in her high chair. “Thank god,” he said, hurrying into the kitchen. He leaned down, carefully cupping her cheeks with shaking hands. “I don’t know how you got in here, but I’m glad that that’s where you are.” He smiled at her and gave her a quick kiss, looking up when he heard the toilet flush.

 

Dylan turned on the tap and pumped the bottle of hand soap a couple of times, quickly washing off his hands. As he reached out for the towel with hand, he grabbed onto his toothbrush. He shoved his toothbrush in his mouth and quickly dried his hands off, setting the towel back down, grabbing onto the toothpaste.

 

Danny leaned against the doorframe for a moment before reaching out, turning the doorknob.

 

Dylan looked up, watching Danny walk into the bathroom in the reflection of the mirror. “What’s up?” he asked, starting to brush his teeth. 

 

“Your parents wanted you to get some sleep,” Danny explained, “so they asked me to baby-sit.”

 

Dylan smiled and nodded, spitting into the sink. “Thank you,” he said, turning around to lean against the sink.

 

“It was fun,” Danny replied, walking closer to Dylan, pressing his hands to the sink on either side of Dylan’s hips, “till I fell asleep.”

 

Dylan smiled and started brushing his teeth again, looking down at one of Danny’s hands. “You okay?” he asked, shifting against the cool porcelain.

 

Danny nodded and leaned in, giving Dylan a kiss, his mouth flooded with the strong taste of cinnamon. “I like that toothpaste,” he remarked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He sighed and looked down at his watch, kissing Dylan again. “I have to go to work. You gonna be okay?”

 

Dylan nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. You have fun at work. Go…floss those teeth.”

 

“I will,” Danny grinned, stepping back from Dylan. “And I’ll think of you when I do.” He walked back out of the bathroom, slipping his feet into his sneakers. “Don’t be too hard on him, Hunt,” he said, giving her a wave. 

 

Dylan laughed softly, shaking his head before he spit into the sink, turning the water back on. He walked to the doorway and stuck his head out, smiling and waving over at Hunter. “Don’t worry Hunt, I’m all rested up now. We can go for our walk in a few minutes.”

 

Hunter grinned and hit her hands against her high chair, dropping her blanket onto the floor. She looked down at the floor in wonder, hands together as she stared at her blanket.

 

Dylan smiled and walked out into the kitchen, reaching down to grasp onto her blanket. “Okay, hold onto that while I go put my toothbrush away.”

 

Hunter grunted softly and reached out after Dylan, trying to push herself up.

 

“Okay, come with me while I go put my toothbrush away,” Dylan corrected, unbuckling Hunter from her high chair, lifting her up into his arms. “I love you, little girl,” he said quietly, kissing her cheek repeatedly as he walked back into the bathroom.

 

* * * *

 

Sam reached out and cut off a small piece of his steak, taking a sip of his water before bringing the meat up to his mouth, chewing on it slowly. “Great job, Dean,” he said quietly, looking over at Dean.

 

Dean smiled proudly and gave Sam a wink. “Well, thank ya, Sammy.” He wet his lips and took a drink himself. “You know, I think I like the fact that Danny came back,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Gives us our alone time back.” He stabbed at his vegetables with his fork, lifting it up, over to Sam’s mouth. “Take a bite, Sammy.”

 

Sam smiled and opened his mouth around the end of Dean’s fork, taking in the vegetables. He chewed and sat back in his chair, taking another drink. “I’m just happy to see Dylan happy again. Except for the sleeping part.” He smiled, taking a bite of his own vegetables. 

 

“Meh,” Dean shrugged, working on cutting his steak into several smaller pieces. “Whatever. Little lack of sleep never killed anybody.” He drew a sharp breath and slowly looked up at Sam, quickly reaching out for his glass so that he wouldn’t have to speak right away. “I mean,” he set his glass back down, “um, I’m not sure what I mean. But I can tell you what I did not mean, and I didn’t mean to imply anything about--”

 

“I’m not so sure that it was the lack of sleep that landed me in the hospital,” Sam interrupted, giving Dean a small smile. “Probably the caffeine,” he said quietly, leaning across the table. “You know, the enough caffeine to give me a seizure. I’m not sure lack of sleep had anything to do with it.” He sat back in his chair and began eating again.

 

“Okay,” Dean agreed, picking up one of the small pieces of meat. “I think you’re probably right.”

 

Sam glanced up at the clock on the wall and stretched his arms up above his head, settling back down. “It was twenty-two years ago, Dean. We still don’t have to be awkward about it.”

 

“Who here is awkward?” Dean asked, looking at Sam. “Certainly not me. I am simply here, enjoying a meal that I lovingly prepared for the absolute love of my life, and nothing is awkward.”

 

Sam smiled and set his fork down, leaning over to give Dean a kiss. “Then stop making it awkward,” he commanded gently, kissing Dean again. He picked up his fork again and stabbed it into one of his baby carrots. He rubbed at his eyes as he took a bite, chewing gently.

 

“Are you mad at me?” Dean asked, looking over at Sam.

 

Sam laughed softly and shook his head, swallowing. “No, Dean, I’m not mad at you. I’m not. Why would I be mad?”

 

“Because I brought up something that we haven’t talked about in five years,” Dean explained. 

 

“I’m not mad at you,” Sam said again. “Maybe I’m still a little mad at myself. But I’m not mad at you. You were there for me, the whole time. How could I ever be mad at somebody like that?” He gave Dean a quick smile reaching out to cover Dean’s hand with his, continuing on with his meal. “But really, this steak is good. I think that you should take over cooking in our later years.”

 

“As long as you bake for me,” Dean smiled, moving his fingers under Sam’s hand. “Sam, would you’ve ever believed, ever even thought when I came to pick you up from Stanford, that we’d have any of this?”

 

Sam looked up at Dean, chewing thoughtfully, waiting to see if Dean was going to continue.

 

“And I don’t even mean a house, or a son, or a granddaughter,” Dean began. “I mean…a relationship. This relationship. I never thought that you’d love me enough.”

 

Sam swallowed hard, gently grasping onto Dean’s hand. “Is it our anniversary?” he asked. “Do we even have an anniversary? But if we do, is it today?”

 

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s August. We found out you were pregnant in August. But that’s not what I mean. I just mean, after everything, after our entire lives, we’re finally, finally…perfect.”

 

Sam reached out for his glass, smiling as he took a small sip. “I think I’m happy to hear this,” he said, looking back over to Dean. “Are you happy to say it?”

 

“Sam, I know that our relationship can’t go any further than this,” Dean continued, turning his seat to that he could fully look at Sam. “But please, please…just pretend that it can.”

 

“I think that I have to admit that I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Sam said, withdrawing his hand from Dean’s when Dean pushed his chair back from the table and stood up. “Which, I also have to admit, really isn’t that unusual with you, but most of the time it’s just--” He stopped talking when Dean got down on one knee in front of him. “Oh.”

 

“I know you’ve said no before,” Dean said, reaching into his pocket, “but hey, this time I got a ring. You can’t say no to a ring, can you?”

 

“Dean, we’re brothers,” Sam pointed out, looking down at Dean. “And fuck, I’m in love with you but we’re brothers.” He reached out, cupping Dean’s cheeks, making him look up at him.

 

Dean turned his head, lightly kissing Sam’s palm. “That’s why I said I said pretend. I know we can’t really do anything about it, so it doesn’t really matter if you wear a ring or not.” He opened the ring box, looking up at Sam. “Would you marry me?” he asked.

 

Sam smiled and reached out, taking the ring out of the box. “Well…yeah, I would, but--”

 

“Then that’s all that matters,” Dean interrupted quietly, standing up back up, sitting in his chair. “That you would. Twenty-four years, Sam, put on the ring.”

 

Sam carefully slipped the ring down onto his finger, pushing it past his knuckles, swallowing. He smiled, twisting the ring around his finger. “I love you,” he said quietly, looking up to meet Dean’s eyes. “We don’t need rings to prove it.”

 

Dean smiled and shook his head, leaning in to give Sam a kiss. “No,” he agreed, moving his hands to Sam’s cheeks, kissing him again “but it helps.” He leaned out of his chair, moving one of his hands to the back of Sam’s neck, his other hand dropping to press into Sam’s thigh. “I love you too,” he breathed, tongue sweeping into Sam’s mouth.

 

* * * *

 

“Oof,” Todd groaned, Hunter pressing her tiny hands into his stomach. “Geez Hunter, let’s leave Uncle Todd alone, okay?”

 

“I’ve got her,” Dylan said, swooping down to lift Hunter off of him, holding her in his arms. “Hunter, Todd is getting old. Old people can’t be climbed on.” He sat back down on the couch, making faces at Hunter, smiling at her when she giggled. “What are you doing, baby? You having fun?”

 

Hunter kicked her foot out and reached down, grabbing onto her toes, slowly pulling her sock off.

 

“I put those on ya for a reason, little girl,” Dylan said, reaching over, grabbing onto the sock. “You’re supposed to wear them.”

 

Hunter looked up at Dylan, reaching out for the sock, trying to pull it out of his hand. She whined and smacked her hand against Dylan’s leg, reaching up to try and pull her barrette out of her hair.

 

“What’s going on?” Danny asked, shifting on the couch, bringing one of his feet up onto the couch. “Why you so fussy?” he asked gently, running his fingers over her hair.

 

Dylan sighed and leaned his head back against the couch, gently rubbing Hunter’s back. “Maybe you’re getting tired too, sweetie,” he suggested, handing Hunter her sock back. “Wanna go lay down?”

 

Hunter tried to push herself up, wiggling around on Dylan’s lap. She flapped her hand over at Todd before her eyes went to her hand and she studied it carefully, bringing it up to her face. 

 

“Man Dad, what do you have to eat in here?” Danny asked, pushing himself up off the couch. “None of that cake left, no?”

 

Todd snorted and tried not to laugh. “Danny, that was too long ago. I think we finished that the day after your birthday.” He pushed himself up off the floor, following after Danny into the kitchen. “I’ll find you something though, go back in the living room.” He wrapped his arm around Danny’s shoulder, turning him back around. 

 

 

“How come?” Danny asked, glancing up at Todd.

 

“Because you’re adorable with her,” Todd said quietly, smiling in at Hunter and Dylan, “and you and Dylan have already spent too long apart.”

 

“I’m just in the kitchen, Dad,” Danny pointed out, but Todd began ushering him back out anyway. He sighed and gave Dylan a quick smile as he sat back down.

 

“What’s up?” Dylan asked. “No food?”

 

Danny shrugged. “Naw, Dad’s offered to get it for me.” He smiled down at Hunter, waggling his fingers at her, laughing softly when she grabbed onto a couple of them, bringing the tips into her mouth. “I don’t think I’m that good, Hunter,” he joked, but didn’t pull his hand back anyway.

 

“How much have you guys eaten today?” Todd asked, pulling his head out of the freezer. “I’ve got garlic fingers that I could cook.”

 

“That sounds good to me,” Dylan nodded. “What do you have to drink?”

 

“I’ll bring ya in a soda,” Todd assured him, pulling the box out of the freezer. “And Danny?”

 

“Whatever you bring him,” Danny replied. “And garlic fingers are good. Anything for Hunt?”

 

“Oh, I brought a couple bottles for her,” Dylan said, “and some food. She’s good.”

 

Todd grabbed a couple of cans of soda and set the box on the counter, walking into the living room, handing Dylan his drink and tossing Danny his. “So does she need anything heated up? I’m assuming those were her bottles in the fridge.”

 

Dylan laughed and nodded. “Yeah, I think she might want a little something. What about it Hunt? You want a bottle? Yes, please, Todd.”

 

“I’ll put the fingers in the oven and microwave one for her,” Todd said, reaching out to ruffle what hair Danny had. “Can I take her?” he asked, looking at Dylan for permission.

 

“Of course,” Dylan said, leaning up a bit to carefully hand Hunter over to Todd, waving at her as Todd set her on his hip. 

 

Danny grinned and turned towards Dylan. “So,” he began, wetting his lips, “wanna make-out?”

 

“No, that’s okay,” Dylan said, but he settled against Danny’s side, turning to the television. He sighed and tilted his head up, smiling at Danny. “Let’s just be good for once.”

 

* * * *

 

Sam used his hands on Dean’s cheeks to guide him up and down his dick, Dean’s hands on Sam’s hips to stop him from thrusting up. Sam groaned softly, head going back as Dean lapped at his slit while pressing behind his balls.

 

Dean lapped up any pre-come, swallowing it down, mouth tightening around Sam. He pulled off to wet his lips and started to suck at just the head, moaning softly when Sam’s grip tightened a little around him. He pulled off again, shrugging Sam’s hands off him and lifted his hands off of Sam’s hips. He started stroking Sam and reached out, grabbing onto the lube. He jerked Sam off, listening to him moan and groan as he popped the cap, squeezing lube onto Sam’s dick, jerking him off with more ease. He awkwardly squeezed the lube onto his fingers, nudging at Sam’s thighs with his elbow. 

 

Sam’s legs fell open even further and he lifted his hips, breathing harshly as Dean slipped two fingers inside him. He cried out and worked his hips down onto Dean’s digits, trying to get him in deeper, and harder.

 

Dean let his fingers peel away from Sam’s dick and reached up, playing with Sam’s nipples.

 

Sam grunted as he took over, wrapping his left hand around himself, the cool metal of his ring pressing against the hot skin. He jerked himself, waiting for Dean to slide in a third finger.

 

Dean watched Sam’s hand, mesmerized by Sam’s ring and he leaned down, kissing Sam’s finger.

 

Sam frowned and lifted his hand off his cock, holding it up to Dean.

 

“You finally said yes,” Dean said quietly, pressing his fingers inside Sam, working his prostate. He kissed the skin around the band again and opened his mouth around Sam’s finger, sliding down.

 

Sam smiled faintly, pulling off of Dean’s fingers, reaching down for Dean’s hips, trying to pull him in closer. “In me,” he panted, “now. ‘Kay? Admire the ring later, Dean.”

 

Dean stroked himself a couple of times, spreading the lube he had left on his fingers and he got up on his knees, pushing Sam’s legs up onto his bent arms, keeping Sam spread as he leaned forward, pushing in.

 

Sam’s back arched and his toes curled, body jerking as Dean easily slipped past the ring of muscle, shifting to bring Sam closer. Sam wiped his sticky fingers on the bed sheets, and moved his hands to Dean’s shoulders, pulling him in closer, leaning up to give him a quick kiss. “God, I love it when you fuck me.”

 

Dean let Sam’s legs slip from his arms and leaned down further, pushing one of his hands through Sam’s hair, pulling him in for a kiss. He thrust in slow and deep, nodding as he kept kissing him, cupping the back of Sam’s neck. “That’s probably why we work so well together,” he muttered, meeting Sam’s eyes. “God, I love you,” he muttered, sucking and nipping at Sam’s bottom lip.

 

Sam clutched at Dean’s back, fingers digging into the still-golden skin, his cock dragging against Dean’s stomach with every thrust. “Make me-- make me come,” he pleaded breathlessly, lifting his head to bite at Dean’s shoulder.

 

Dean pressed his forehead against Sam’s chest, reaching between them to grab onto Sam’s dick, fingers dancing over the head before stroking him quickly. He pushed himself back up, kissing Sam again as his and hand worked, trying to get them both off. “I love you more than anything.”

 

“Uh-huh,” Sam groaned, arching off the bed again, clutching and grasping at Dean, head dropping back as he came, breathing heavily.

 

Dean laughed softly and slowly leaned down, letting go of Sam, setting him back down on the bed. He kept thrusting as Sam’s muscles fluttered around him, wetting his swollen lips. “You just--” he grunted, thrusting harder, “gimme a sec.”

 

Sam nodded dreamily and smiled up at Dean, stretching out languidly underneath him. “All the time in the world, Dean,” he assured him quietly.

 

Dean smiled and kissed Sam, breath coming erratically as he felt himself start to come, shooting into Sam. He thrust into him as his body began to tremble, hips stuttering before they finally just stopped and he kept himself propped up above Sam, looking down at him. 

 

Sam smiled up at Dean, cupping the back of his neck, pulling him down onto him. “Come on, let’s just rest a little,” he said quietly, swallowing when Dean slipped out of him. “Shower later.”

 

Dean nodded and settled against Sam’s chest, letting Sam gently run his fingers over him.

 

* * * *

 

“C’mon lover,” Danny said, reaching out for Dylan’s hand, “I’ll drive ya home.”

 

Dylan sighed and shifted against the wall, bouncing Hunter up in his arms. “Oh, I don’t wanna go. Mom and Dad were having some supper tonight, they’re probably doing it as we speak and I-- I’m not ready to go home.”

 

“You wanna come to my place for a couple of hours?” Danny offered. “We can rent a movie or something. Whatever you want.”

 

Dylan smiled and nodded slowly. “Yeah, that sounds good.” He sighed and let Danny pull him off the wall. “Maybe get a nap or something.”

 

Danny laughed. “You sleep more than any person I’ve ever met,” he said, looking back at Todd.

 

Dylan nodded. “Well, at least I used to anyway. Not so much anymore.” He looked at Hunter. “Right Hunt? Not so much anymore, huh?” He smiled and kissed her forehead. “Just teeth and get it over with, sugar.”

 

Danny laughed again and thought for a moment, spinning on his feet. “Dad, what are you doing tonight?” he asked, walking into the living room.

 

Todd looked up, scratching at the back of his neck. “Uh, nothing. Why, what’s going on?”

 

Danny glanced back at Dylan, waving him over. “Why don’t you watch Hunter for the night?” he asked.

 

Dylan shook his head quickly. “No, no, that’s okay. I think that your dad might actually want to get some sleep tonight. And-- and it just wouldn’t be fair. I couldn’t let--”

 

“I love babies,” Todd interrupted, looking up at Dylan. “And it really wouldn’t be a problem.”

 

“Really?” Dylan asked. “Are you sure? No, no, that’s fine. Danny, my parents can watch her. Hell, I can watch her. I don’t want to impose.”

 

Todd smiled and pushed himself up, taking Hunter out of Dylan’s arms. “It’s not an imposition. I love babies and I think that Hunter here’s a fine one. We get along great, don’t we sweetheart?”

 

Hunter giggled up at Todd, bouncing up and down in his arms. 

 

“I think that it’s agreed,” Todd said. “If you want sleep or…” he winked at Dylan and gave Danny a nudge, “you know, something else, then you can just pick her up in the morning when Danny drives you home before work.”

 

Dylan smiled over at Danny, who was nodding eagerly. “C’mon, Dyl,” Danny said, “a night off. How can you say no?”

 

Dylan sighed and crossed his arms, looking around. “I don’t know, Dan. Where’s she supposed to sleep? Or-- or--”

 

“You brought her diaper bag,” Todd pointed out. “She has food and diapers and knowing Sam, a change of clothes. As for where she can sleep…I don’t know. My bed. With me.” He looked down when Hunter started pulling on his shirt.

 

“Yeah,” Dylan breathed, nodding slowly.

 

“Yeah?” Todd asked eagerly. 

 

Dylan nodded. “Yeah, okay. But if there’s anything wrong, please, please call.”

 

“Of course,” Todd assured him. “You know, I had to raise a kid on my own too, Dyl, with only my parents to help. And if somebody else was watching Dan and something happened…if she even sneezes funny, you’ll be the first person I call.”

 

Dylan swallowed hard, reaching down to grasp onto Danny’s hand. “Yeah, okay.” He leaned down, giving Hunter a kiss, letting her kiss him back. “I love you, girl. You be good, okay? Be perfect.” He kissed her forehead, stepping back.

 

“Thanks, Dad,” Danny said, smiling up at Todd, giving him a quick hug. “Don’t roll over on her in your sleep now.”

 

Todd laughed and shook his head, following the two to the door. “Don’t worry, Dan, I like her a lot better than you.”

 

Danny glared at Todd before laughing, pulling on his shoes. “Be good. Don’t corrupt her too soon.”

 

“See ya,” Dylan said, opening the front door, “and thanks so much, Todd. I owe you one.”

 

“We’ll see just how many you owe in the morning,” Todd smiled, leaning against the doorframe. “For every half hour I lose of sleep…”

 

“Alright, we’ll be seeing you, Dad,” Danny said, following after Dylan. “And I love you!”

 

“Love you too!” Todd called back, waiting for Dylan and Danny to climb into the car before going back into the house with Hunter.

 

“I do actually want to get some sleep tonight, Danny,” Dylan said, head lolling over to look at Danny as they pulled out of the driveway. “This isn’t for sex.”

 

Danny sighed and shrugged. “Oh, I think that I can survive, Dylan. One night without sex. God, you must think so highly of me.” He laughed softly, shaking his head. “Sleep. I promise. Trust me. I can see that you need it.”

 

Dylan smiled and rolled his eyes, settling against the car door.

 

* * * *

 

Sam flinched and he jerked awake, breathing heavily. He looked around the room and sighed, trying to calm down. “Fuck,” he muttered, looking over at clock. “Great, one-thirty,” he muttered, pushing the sheets off of him. He looked over at Dean, who was hoarding the pillows as usual and pushed himself up, feet dropping to the floor. He reached down and adjusted himself in his boxers, walking over to the bathroom. He flicked on the lights and pushed the door closed almost all the way behind him, going over to the toilet. 

 

Dean’s lips smacked in his sleep and he rolled over, wrapping his arms around one of his pillows. He wiggled on his stomach and began mumbling to himself, toes sticking out from under the sheets. 

 

Sam reached out with one hand, turning on the sink before flushing the toilet, grabbing onto the soap. He yawned loudly and looked up at himself in the mirror, pain flaring behind his eyes before images quickly flew through his mind. He cried out in pain and dropped the soap, clutching at the sink. His knees buckled and his feet slipped out from underneath him, knees banging into the cupboards under the sink.

 

Dean’s eyes shot open and he quickly sat up, looking around for Sam. “Sam?” he called, shoving the sheets off of him, climbing over his pillows.

 

Sam groaned and held his hands up to his head, rocking back and forth on the floor.

 

Dean ran to the bathroom and pushed the door open, immediately going to the floor for Sam, wrapping his arms around him. “Sam, what’s wrong? Fuck, are you okay?”

 

Sam clutched at Dean as the vision finally left his mind and he slowly lifted his head, eyes filled with tears. “One-thirty,” he said quickly.

 

“What?” Dean asked, cupping Sam’s cheeks. “What’s going on?”

 

“It’s one-thirty,” Sam said quickly, pushing himself up. “AM. It’s the fourteenth.”

 

Dean looked up at Sam, frowning before standing up. “What’s your point?”

 

“Hunter’s six-months-old,” Sam explained, quickly going past Dean back into the bedroom, grabbing his cell phone. 

 

“You had a vision,” Dean said quietly, watching Sam dial Dylan’s number. “Oh my god. No. No, that’s not fair, that's not how it works. There's supposed to be more of a warning.”

 

“Dylan!” Sam called as soon as the phone was answered. “Where’s Hunter?”

 

“What’s going on?” Dylan asked tiredly, rubbing his eyes. 

 

“Dylan,” Sam snapped, “where is Hunter?” he asked slowly.

 

“She’s at Todd’s,” Dylan replied. “I needed the sl--”

 

“Fuck!” Sam yelled. “She’s at Todd’s.”

 

“I’ll call Todd,” Dean said, jumping over the bed to grab his phone off the nightstand, quickly going through his address book. 

 

“You’re closer, Dylan,” Sam said, holding his phone up to his ear as he pulled on his sweatpants. “I need you to get there now.”

 

“Just tell me what the fuck’s going on!” Dylan exclaimed, reaching over to wake Danny up as he climbed out of bed.

 

“She’s six-months-old, Dylan,” Sam explained, “and I just had a vision. Get over there now.”

 

Dylan’s mouth opened and the phone slipped from his hand, looking down at Danny. “No,” he said in disbelief, shaking his head slowly.

 

“Dylan!” Sam yelled through the line. “Hurry the fuck up! Todd is at risk here!”

 

Tears filled Dylan’s eyes and he quickly stood up, looking around for Danny’s keys. “Danny!” he screamed.

 

“What?” Danny asked, lifting his head.

 

“If you don’t want your dad to die,” Dylan said quickly, grabbing the keys, “you need to get the fuck up now.”

 

Danny stared at Dylan for a moment before he shot into action, reaching over to grab his phone, dialing Todd’s number. “It’s busy!”

 

“It’s my dad,” Dylan explained, hurrying out of Danny’s bedroom. 

 

Danny picked up his phone and just ran after Dylan, pulling the apartment door closed after them, both of them running barefoot down the hall.

 

“We don’t have time for the elevator,” Dylan said, pushing open the door to the stairwell.

 

“Todd, do not go in the room,” Dean said, following after Sam. “Stay away from her. She’s not in any danger, just don’t--”

 

“I think that it’s a little too late for that,” the yellow-eyed demon said, laughing softly, reaching out for Todd’s phone.

 

Todd’s eyes filled with tears and he looked down at Hunter, lips trembling. “He's,” he began softly, "he's...here."

 

Dean stopped in his tracks, looking over at Sam. “He’s already there.”

 

Sam cried out and hit the roof of the car, fumbling for the handle. “I’m not going to let him die,” he said, climbing in. “Dean!” he yelled. 

 

“Don’t give him the phone,” Dean said quickly, going around to the passenger side. “Just stay with me Todd.”

 

“What’s he going to do?” Todd asked, eyeing the man in his room.

 

“Don’t ask,” Dean said, his own tears spilling down his cheeks. “God Todd, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. This was never supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed…nobody was.”

 

“Which one is it?” the demon asked, sitting down on the edge of Todd’s bed. “Or is it Dylan? God, I haven’t seen Dylan in years. But Sam and I definitely have a grudge.”

 

Todd sniffled, still holding the phone up to his ear, even as he began to sob as quietly as possible.

 

The demon stood up and stepped back, smiling at Todd before making him fly out of the bed and against the wall.

 

* * * *

 

Dylan and Danny both hopped out of the car, rocks in Todd’s driveway digging into their feet before they jumped the steps and started knocking and trying to get the door open.

 

“I’ll try the front,” Danny said, running down the steps, sliding on the wet grass as he ran up to the front door. He let out a breath of relief when he realized that once again, Todd had forgotten to lock both doors and he ran inside, choosing not to unlock the door Dylan was at. “Dad?” he yelled, almost to Todd’s bedroom before he felt the heat radiating through the house. “No,” he said angrily, shaking his head before going to Todd’s room, hand jerking back when he felt the heat on the doorknob. “Dad!” he yelled, banging on the door. He took a deep breath and tried the door again, pushing it open. He cowered from the flames that were so far only on the ceiling and he ran into the room, starting to cry when he saw Todd looking down at him. Danny reached down and picked up Hunter, looking over to see the demon. “You motherfucker,” he said, taking step towards him.

 

“Best get out now,” the demon teased, stepping from the corner of the room, “before you and that baby end up like your daddy.”

 

Danny kept his eyes on Todd, tears streaming down his cheeks as he backed out of the bedroom, sobbing, holding Hunter close. He ran away from the door, dropping down to the floor when he felt the fire explode in the room. He wanted to stay there, wanted to let the fire burn him along with his father, but then he heard Hunter cry out loudly, and he pushed himself back up, going to the front door. He stumbled out of the house, falling into Dylan, who quickly wrapped his arms around him, leading him onto the lawn.

 

“Your dad?” Dylan asked quietly, kissing Danny’s forehead.

 

Danny cried out in anguish and dropped to his knees, sobbing, shoulders shaking. He reached out and set Hunter down on the grass, heart pounding heavily in his chest, eyes too blurry to see and he clutched at the grass.

 

“No,” Dylan said quietly, looking down at Hunter, who was crying loudly, yet seemed unscathed. “Danny,” he said, dropping down in front of Danny, “I’m so sorry.” He began to break down with him, tears running down his cheeks, not sure what else to say.

 

“The house is on fire,” Dean said quietly, dropping his phone onto the floor of the car.

 

Sam sped up and the tires squealed as he quickly turned into the driveway, fingers clutching the wheel. “Not Todd, please God, not Todd,” he whispered, shoving open the car door. He ran across the driveway, Dean following behind him. 

 

Dylan looked over at Sam, pushing himself off the grass, wrapping his arms against him, falling against Sam, crying into his chest.

 

Sam rolled his lips into his mouth, closing his eyes, holding Dylan against him. He kissed the top of his head, going down to the grass with him.

 

Dean slowly walked over to Hunter, sitting down on the grass, lifting her up onto his lap. He quickly checked her over and it was hard not to smile in relief, even with Danny throwing up his supper on the grass beside him. He looked back at the house and closed his eyes, feeling sick to his own stomach.


	44. Chapter 43

Title: Look What Love Has Done - Volume 3 - Chapter 43

 

Summary: After Todd’s death, Dylan’s not sure where his relationship with Danny stands. And after a revelation from their son, Sam’s not sure where his relationship stands with Dean.

 

 

twenty-two years, four months and two days old

 

Sam swallowed and reached over, gently pulling Dylan’s fingers out of his mouth. “Don’t bite your nails,” he said quietly, voice rough.

 

Dylan pulled his hand out of Sam’s grip and crossed his arms, slouching down in the chair. “Leave me alone,” he said, looking away from Sam.

 

Sam sighed and nodded, looking over at Dean, who had Hunter curled up on his lap, asleep. His stomach started to sink a little and he dropped his eyes, bringing his feet up onto his chair. He swallowed again, breathing heavily through his nose, tears stinging behind his eyes.

 

Dean looked over at Sam, reaching out for him, clasping onto his shoulder. “You need me to get you something?” he asked quietly, ready to push himself up.

 

Sam shook his head, looking over at Dean, his eyes saying it all.

 

“You’re welcome,” Dean said quietly, wetting his lips. He looked down at Hunter, gently thumbing her cheek. He cocked his head to the side, leaning down to give her a kiss. He looked up, eyes starting to fill with tears again and he swallowed, wiping furiously at his eyes.

 

Sam tilted his head down and gently kissed Dean’s hand on his shoulder, letting out a deep breath. “I just wanna go home and go bed,” he said, sniffling.

 

Dylan sat up, glaring at his parents. “No, we’re not leaving him. I’m not leaving until Danny does or-- or says it’s okay.”

 

Sam looked over at Dylan. “We’re staying, Dylan. I was just--”

 

“I don’t--” Dylan interrupted, shaking his head, “why did this have to happen?” he asked quietly, staring at the floor in front of him. “It’s not fair. Todd never did anything. He wasn’t-- he was never involved. He was…” Dylan’s shoulders began to shake and he started crying again. “He was just trying to save my baby,” he finished, pushing himself out of his chair when Sam reached out to him.

 

Sam watched Dylan helplessly, wanting to stand up and just hug him, but Dean gently squeezed his shoulder. Sam looked over at Dean and nodded, curling up in his chair, resting against Dean.

 

“I just thank god that it wasn’t Hunter,” Dean said softly, kissing the top of Sam’s head, taking a deep breath.

 

Sam’s breath hitched and he sniffled gently, nodding. 

 

Dylan spun around on his feet when he heard Danny’s quiet voice, speaking with the doctor. He wiped at his eyes and swallowed, waiting for Danny to look over at him.

 

“If you have any trouble breathing,” the doctor began.

 

Danny shook his head, dropping his eyes. “I won’t.” He sighed and wiped at his eyes, pulling on his sleeves. He looked up, finally seeing Dylan, stopping his tracks.

 

Dylan looked over at Sam and Dean, wetting his lips before looking back to Danny. He opened his mouth to speak, but more of his tears just spilled over and he just closed it again.

 

Danny sighed, watching Dylan for a moment, before shaking his head slowly, walking past Dylan, going down the hall.

 

Dylan swallowed hard and turned to watch Danny walk away, wiping at his eyes. He sniffled and walked back over to Sam and Dean, looking down at them expectantly. “We can go,” he said quietly, voice rough.

 

Dean nodded and stood up, shifting Hunter against his chest, holding her close. “It’s okay, little girl,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head. He reached down, linking fingers with Sam, shifting when Hunter’s fingers grasped onto the collar of his t-shirt.

 

“D’you think he needs a ride?” Sam asked, looking at Dean as he stood up. 

 

Dean sighed and just shook his head, leading Sam after Dylan. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he walked,” he admitted, shifting Hunter in his arms. “We should just leave him alone.”

 

* * * *

 

Dylan looked around the kitchen as he pushed open the door, closing his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath.

 

“You okay, kiddo?” Dean asked quietly, leaning forward.

 

Dylan brought his hand up to his mouth, biting into the skin, trying not to start sobbing again; too tired for it. He shook his head and swallowed hard, past the lump in his throat, kicking off his sneakers. “I gotta go to bed,” he said quietly, before hurrying away from his parents. 

 

Dean just nodded, swallowing, glancing over at Sam, who was leaning against the doorframe, fingers curled around the wood. He reached out, gently trailing his fingers over Sam’s cheek, watching Sam jerk away from him. “We going to bed too?” he asked.

 

Sam shrugged. “I don’t know,” he replied, walking into the house, sniffling. “I’m too exhausted to sleep.”

 

“I think I’m gonna go lay down,” Dean said, following after Sam, handing him Hunter, “is that okay?”

 

Sam nodded, rubbing at his eyes. “Yeah, of course,” he assured him, looking down at Hunter. He ran his fingers over her hair, biting the inside of his lip as tears stung his eyes once again. “Night.”

 

“If anybody needs me…” Dean nodded once before slowly making his way to the master bedroom, tears running down his cheeks once the door was closed behind him.

 

Sam gently rubbed Hunter’s back as he walked into the living room, her tiny hands curled up against his chest, near her face. He blinked furiously and wiped at his nose, carefully sitting down on the couch, staring out the large window. He leaned his head back, simply watching Todd and Danny’s old house, crying again, smiling weakly.

 

* * * *

 

Danny had his hands up by his mouth, gently gnawing on his knuckle, rocking back and forth on the couch. He rested his head on his knees, tears just streaming down his cheeks, closing his eyes. He reached down, digging his hands into the couch, trying not to scream. He shoved himself up off the couch and grabbed the cushions, pulling them off. He threw them across the apartment, knocking over a lamp with one, taking out a couple of picture frames with the other. 

 

Danny wiped furiously at his eyes and screamed at the top of his lungs, stomping over to the couch, reaching down to grab onto the frame. He lifted the couch onto it’s back legs and shoved it down, a loud bang as one end hit the wall as it tipped over. He dropped down to his knees, his face in his hands, crying loudly. He reached out, grasping onto the couch as his entire body shook, head hanging. He cried for a few moments longer before he screamed again, shoving at the couch again. He brought his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them, resting his cheek on his knees. He wiped at his eyes, sniffling loudly. “Dad,” he said softly, squeezing his eyes shut. “Fuck, Dad,” he whimpered, reaching down to dig his fingers into the carpeted floor.

 

* * * *

 

Sam leaned down, carefully laying Hunter in her crib, gently drumming his fingers on her rising and falling chest. “What a pretty sunrise, huh, Hunt?” he whispered, quickly glancing over at Dylan. He stepped back from the crib, keeping his hand on the frame as he moved closer to the bed. He let his arm drop so that he could sit down on the edge of Dylan’s bed, laying back. He sighed and gently rested his arm over his eyes, feeling Dylan’s feet move under the bed sheets. He groaned softly and shifted on the mattress, taking a deep breath.

 

“I was trying to get you to move,” Dylan explained, lifting his head, kicking his foot again.

 

Sam swallowed and sat up, looking over at Dylan. “Sorry,” he apologized quietly, pushing himself up.

 

“S’okay,” Dylan replied, dropping his eyes. He sighed and reached out, pulling his sheets back. “Or…you can go back to bed with Dad.”

 

Sam yawned and shook his head, climbing up to the head of the bed, dropping down heavily beside Dylan, looking up at him. “Are you gonna be okay?” he asked, reaching up to play with the ends of Dylan’s hair. 

 

Dylan shrugged, before nodding once. “Eventually,” he replied. “But I don’t know about Danny. Todd was all he had, you know? He doesn’t even remember his mom. He’s all alone now.” he looked down at Sam. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

 

Sam nodded and reached up, resting his hand on Dylan’s shoulder, gently pulling him back down onto the mattress. “It’s hard, Dylan,” he said quietly, pulling up the sheets, fixing them around Dylan, “and I made it. But it’s going to be hard.”

 

Dylan nodded and rested his head against Sam’s shoulder, closing his eyes. “Is Dad asleep?” he asked.

 

Sam nodded, yawning again. “Yeah, I checked on him, before I brought Hunter down.” He stretched his legs out, wiggling under the sheets. “I feel like I’m supposed to say something to you,” he whispered, “but I just don’t know what it is yet.”

 

Dylan shrugged weakly. “As long as we have time to figure it out,” he said quietly, snuggling up to Sam. “Can you promise that that you won't die?” he asked, sniffling. 

 

“Dylan, you know I can’t do that,” Sam said quietly, gently rubbing Dylan’s arm. 

 

Dylan’s eyes filled with tears and he started to cry gently, rubbing his face in his hands. “That’s not what you’re supposed to say,” he said softly.

 

“Can you tell Hunter that you’re not going to die?” Sam asked pointedly. “Can you tell us?” he asked.

 

Dylan sniffled and swallowed hard, shaking his head. “What are we supposed to tell Danny?” he asked. “What am I supposed to say? That I’m sorry his dad died, but at least my daughter’s alive? That’s not fair. It just-- it just isn’t.”

 

Sam wrapped his arms around Dylan, pulling him in closely. “Shh, it’s okay,” he whispered, “it’s okay. No, it’s not fair. I know.” He kissed the top of Dylan’s head, just holding him close. “I think we all know that more than anybody. But in my entire life, it’s never been fair. And it won’t be. And this is probably one the hardest things we’ll ever have to do, have to go through, until something else happens.”

 

Dylan laughed miserably, shaking his head. “How can you be so negative all of the time and still-- still--” he struggled to find the right word.

 

“Survive?” Sam offered. 

 

Dylan nodded once. “Yeah. How do you do it?”

 

“I have three very important people in my life,” Sam replied, reaching up to rub his eyes, yawning softly.

 

Dylan frowned and reached out, grasping onto Sam’s hand. “When did you start wearing a ring?” he asked quietly, examining Sam’s hand, looking up at him.

 

Sam swallowed and smiled, pulling his hand away from Dylan’s. “It’s not important,” he lied, sliding his hand under the sheets. “But it’s late, or early, and I think we should go back to sleep. ‘Kay?”

 

Dylan swallowed and nodded, laying his head back down, stretching out his limbs before just settling into the mattress, letting out a quiet sigh. “Stay with me?” he asked, voice tiny.

 

Sam nodded, brushing his fingers over Dylan’s cheek, wiping at the drying tears. “For as long as you need,” he assured him, closing his eyes.

 

* * * *

 

Hunter opened her mouth around the spoon, hitting her hands against her high chair as she smiled, Dean reaching out to wipe at her chin. She reached out for the spoon, trying to hook her fingers around the end, but Dean just shook his head.

 

“No, I don’t think so,” Dean said quietly, dipping the spoon back into jar, stirring the food around. “I just need you to stay clean, okay? Please? I’m not in the mood to give you a bath right now, sweetie.” He reached out, pushing her hair away from her face, leaning in to kiss her forehead. 

 

Hunter cocked her head to the side, opening her mouth again, reaching out for Dean.

 

“Are you finished?” Dean asked, holding the spoon out to her again, waiting to see if she’d take it. He frowned slightly, sighing, looking back when he heard footsteps behind him. “I’m going to have to ask you not to sneak up on me, Sam,” he said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

 

“Sorry,” Sam apologized, sitting down at the table. He scratched at his head and sighed, hand pressed to his mouth, watching Hunter. “Sorry I didn’t go to bed last night,” he said, moving his eyes up to Dean, “I was…I stayed up with her then I went with Dylan.”

 

Dean smiled weakly and nodded, setting the spoon down. “It’s okay,” he replied, pushing his chair back from Hunter’s high chair.

 

“Did you sleep okay?” Sam asked, looking up at Dean as he walked over to the sink. “Or…at all?”

 

Dean shrugged, running the spoon under the water before setting it in the sink. He put the cap on the jar, going over to the refrigerator. “I drifted in and out of it. Nightmares, fire on the ceiling.” He shook his head, walking back over to Sam and Hunter. “I guess I kind of know how you feel.”

 

Sam sighed, scratching his forehead. “Except I see them die before it happens,” he pointed out.

 

Dean rolled his lips into his mouth and sat down, dropping heavily into his seat. “Yeah, I know,” he said, letting out a deep breath. “And I’m sorry.” He scratched at his stomach, shaking his head. “Anything from Danny?” he asked.

 

“Somebody should check on him sometime,” Sam said, not really answering the question. “Just to make sure he’s…” he rubbed his wrists absentmindedly, swallowing hard, “around.”

 

“Yeah,” Dean breathed, standing back up, pacing around the kitchen. “I can’t sit still,” he explained, glancing back at Sam. “I-- I kept getting up, when I wasn’t asleep. Checking on things, writing things down. Just…neurotic. I curled up on the floor.”

 

“You okay?” Sam asked, reaching out to him.

 

“Yeah,” Dean replied, waving his hand. He rubbed at his eyes, walking over to the counter, pulling out a drawer. “It just scares me sometimes,” he said, stopping where he was.

 

“What’s that?” Sam asked.

 

“How quickly people can disappear from our lives,” Dean replied quietly, glancing over at Sam. “It’s not worth it to be near us.” He sniffled and blinked a couple of times, clearing his throat. “I don’t know what ever made us think that it would be.”

 

“Dean, we never told Todd that he had to be friends with us,” Sam pointed out gently. “And he was more than a friend, he was family.”

 

“We never told him the truth,” Dean reminded him. “He should’ve known. He should’ve been allowed to make the choice, to be around us. He let us take care of his son, he took care of ours. And we never told him.”

 

Dylan cleared his throat gently, rubbing his arms, walking out of the living room, looking at his parents. “I think Danny did,” he said, wetting his lips. “We never really talked about it but…I think I just sort of assumed.”

 

Dean had to smile faintly, tears going away from his eyes. “You guys do that sort of thing where you really don’t have to talk?” he asked. “But you still sort of know what’s going on?”

 

Dylan shrugged. “Yeah, sometimes. A lot more when we were younger. Things have changed a lot since then.” He shook his head gently. “Things have changed a lot now.” He blinked furiously and wiped at his nose before reaching down, unbuckling Hunter from her high chair, lifting her up into his arms. “I guess we just can’t keep people around us, baby,” he said quietly, bouncing her up. He walked around the table, sitting down in the empty chair. He smiled down at her, nodding once, looking down at his arms. “I have to have a shower though.”

 

“We’ve got her,” Sam assured him, looking over at Dylan. “If you want.”

 

Dylan swallowed hard and nodded slowly, standing back up. “I'll keep the door unlocked,” he said, leaning down to hand Hunter over to Dean. “Just in case.”

 

Dean nodded and looked over at Sam, who had straightened up. “Whatever you think is best,” he said, rubbing Hunter’s side.

 

“Kay,” Dylan said, going into the bathroom, pushing the door closed behind him.

 

Dean sighed, wiggling his finger in Hunter’s grip. “He might be a bit harder on you,” he began, leaning down, “when you’re older, but he’ll always mean well.” He smiled and kissed her forehead, holding her close. “Trust me, I know.”

 

* * * *

 

Danny just stared at his grandparents, eyes heavy, moving out of the way for them to walk into his apartment. “Hi,” he said quietly, voice gravely.

 

Danny’s grandfather burst into fresh tears, pulling him in for a hug. “Never thought I’d outlive my boy,” he whispered, kissing Danny’s cheek wetly. “Not the way it’s supposed to be.”

 

Danny sighed and nodded once, leaning his head against his grandfather’s shoulder, patting his back gently. “It’ll be okay,” he said flatly, pulling back slightly. “And I’m okay.” He looked over at his grandmother. “How are you?” he asked.

 

“Have you told your mother’s parents yet?” she asked, wiping her eyes. “They’ll want to come to the funeral.”

 

Danny shook his head slowly, finally pushing the door to the hallway closed. “No, not yet,” he replied, leaning against the door. “I don’t know what to do. Or say. Or…how to plan a funeral.” He looked down at the floor and wiped at his eyes. “I never thought about this.”

 

“Let us take care of it,” his grandmother said quietly, pulling him into a hug, kissing his neck, holding him tightly. “That shouldn’t be your responsibility.”

 

“He was my dad,” Danny cried, lifting his head. 

 

“And he was our son,” she pointed out, wiping at his cheeks. “This is no place for a child.”

 

Danny nodded and brought his hands up to his face, slumping back against the door. “Can I go to bed?” he asked quietly, tears running down his cheeks. “I just wanna go to bed again. I’m sorry, I can’t be up right now.”

 

“Of course,” his grandfather spoke up, reaching out for Danny’s hand. “We’ll get your couch out of the way when you’re ready,” he assured him, helping Danny around the fallen piece of furniture.

 

Danny blushed and nodded, watching his feet. “I’m really sorry, Grandpa. I should’ve been able to save him.”

 

“You’re not a firefighter, Daniel,” his grandfather pointed out, helping Danny into his bedroom. “And I could never expect you to do such a thing.” He kissed Danny’s temple. “Get some sleep. Marie and I will be out here if you need us.”

 

Danny nodded and dropped down onto his bed, pulling feebly at his sheets. “I don’t want to talk to anybody,” he said, “if anybody calls. Please don’t bring me the phone.”

 

“Of course,” his grandfather assured him. “And you don’t come out until you’re ready.”

 

Danny sniffled and let out a deep breath. “I don’t know if that’ll ever happen,” he said quietly, biting his lip. “I just don’t know why it had to happen. I don’t know why he had to die. He should still be here.”

 

Danny’s grandfather wet his lips and wiped at his own eyes, stepping out of Danny’s bedroom. He pulled the door closed behind him and looked over at his wife, who had her hands over her mouth, shaking her head as she looked around the mess in Danny’s apartment. “We’re not cleaning it,” he said softly, walking over to her. “Not now.”

 

“He shouldn’t be living in a place like this,” she said, looking up at him. “It should-- it should be clean. He’ll start to feel better if it’s clean.”

 

“You’ll start to feel better if you clean,” he pointed out, pulling her in to give her a kiss. “That’s not what we’re here for.”

 

“I should call Lucy’s parents,” she said, looking around for Danny’s phone. “I don’t think that Daniel wants to call them.” She wiped at her eyes, finally unbuttoning her jacket. “I’ll make him something to eat,” she said quietly, grabbing onto the cordless. “All alone here now.” She shook her head, closing her eyes for a moment.

 

* * * *

 

Dylan pressed his hands to forehead, pushing his hair back off of his face. “I’ve never been to an actual funeral before,” he said quietly, looking up at Sam. “What am I supposed to?”

 

“It’s okay to cry,” Sam said quietly, reaching out to fix Dylan’s tie. “Just…do what you what you think is okay. Don’t take your cell phone.”

 

“I wouldn’t anyway,” Dylan mumbled, looking over when Dean walked out of the bedroom, Hunter in his arms. “I just don’t know what to say. Not to Danny, or his grandparents or anybody. Danny knows it’s my fault.”

 

“It’s not,” Sam insisted. “It isn’t. And he knows that. He might be angry, Dylan, but he has to know the truth. It’s not your fault anymore than it’s Hunter’s. You were born into this.”

 

Dean swallowed hard, looking up at Sam. “I think that I get where you’re going with this. And I hate when you say it.”

 

Sam swallowed and looked down, fiddling with his tie. “Do we have Hunter’s diaper bag?” he asked quietly, glancing up at Dylan.

 

Dylan stared at Sam, but before shaking his head. “Uh, no,” he replied.

 

“It was at Todd’s,” Dean explained, bouncing Hunter up on his hip. “When…we haven’t gotten a new one.” He sighed, shoulders slumping. “God, I don’t wanna do this,” he said, shaking his head. “Fuck, I don’t wanna go to Todd’s funeral.” 

 

Sam wet his lips and swallowed, nodding. “It’s not right,” he agreed quietly, finally taking a step towards the door. “But we are going and,” he shook his head, “we’re not going to be late. Not for this. Let’s go.”

 

“Everything’s so different now,” Dylan said, walking after Sam. “It’ll never be the same. I can feel it.”

 

Dean drew a sharp breath and blinked furiously, trying to keep his tears down.

 

* * * *

 

“I don’t think that my dad ever expected to see me up here,” Danny began, hands gripping the pulpit, trying to keep his voice shaky. “We never talked about it. He was only forty-four.” He looked up, nodding once at both sets of grandparents, eyes slowly making their way over to Dylan. Once they did, they dropped back down, staring at the wood. “I thought that maybe it should be his dad, or--” he sniffled, hands trembling, “or anybody but me. I never wanted to be the one to celebrate my dad’s life, once he was dead.”

 

Dean reached over and grasped onto Sam’s hand, glancing quickly at him. “I don’t think he knows what he’s doing,” he said under his breath, squeezing Sam’s fingers.

 

“I’m happy he doesn’t,” Sam replied. “He shouldn’t have to know how to give a eulogy.”

 

Danny wet his lips and reached out, taking a quick drink of water. “I…I read, on the net, how to give a eulogy; how to write one.” He snorted and gave a small smile. “How did I meet him? He was my father. He was my dad. I have all the pictures of him and my mom holding me.” He smiled again, sniffling. He opened his mouth to speak before his eyes quickly filled with tears and the lump grew in his throat. He closed his eyes, swallowing hard more than once, taking a deep breath.

 

“C’mon, Danny,” Dylan said softly, holding Hunter, “c’mon, you can do this. Be strong.”

 

“I hate that he’s gone,” Danny said finally. “I feel like there’s so much that he’s going to miss out on. There is so much that he’s going to miss out on. Everything. The rest of his life. I don’t know what I’ll miss most.” He stopped again, wiping at his eyes. “My dad was the greatest I’ve ever known. Everything he would do, he’d do it…just, so full, you know? Of life. He made everything interesting. Everything was perfect. He’s the only person that I’ve ever looked up to like that.”

 

Dean dropped his head forward, closing his eyes. He squeezed Sam’s hand again, sniffling.

 

“I could say that I’m sorry that he’ll miss out on my life,” Danny continued. “I know that he is. But I’m not. My life would never have been what it was without my father. He made everybody smile and laugh and just-- he could’ve been so different when my mother died. He could’ve been absent, but he wasn’t. He lived it for her.” He swallowed, taking another drink. “I’m not sorry that he won’t get to see me live the rest of my life. I’m just sorry that I won’t get to see him live the rest of his.” He lifted his head, looking up at the ceiling. “I love you, Daddy,” he whispered, tears trickling down his cheeks. He sniffled and stepped down, trying not to hurry back to his seat, sitting down between his grandfathers.

 

Dylan looked over at Danny, watching him carefully, swallowing when Danny lifted his head, looking over at him. He tried to give him a small smile, but he just dropped his eyes back down when Hunter stirred in his arms. He leaned down, giving her a kiss. “Just be a good girl for a few more minutes,” he whispered. When he looked back up, Danny had his eyes closed.

 

* * * *


	45. Chapter 43B

Dylan straightened up, moving away from the car, looking around the graveyard for Danny. He sighed and looked down, feeling awkward watching Danny speak personally with people he didn’t know. He dropped his head into his hands, leaning against the car.

 

“Get Hunter buckled in?” Sam asked, walking over.

 

Dylan looked up and nodded, reaching out to close the car door. “Where’s Dad?” he asked quietly.

 

“Talking to Todd’s mother,” Sam replied, looking back.

 

Dylan followed the line of Sam’s eyes, watching Dean with Danny’s grandmother. “I remember meeting her,” he said. “She’s sweet. Loves Danny a bunch.”

 

“I should hope so,” Sam muttered, straightening up when Dean turned around, walking back towards them. “How’s she holding up?”

 

“She thinks that Danny did a wonderful job speaking today,” Dean replied, “and I told her that I agreed.” He reached out, pulling open the car door. “I’m tired,” he said, rubbing his eyes as he climbed into the car.

 

Dylan looked around, seeing Danny standing alone at his father’s fresh grave, pushing himself off the car. “I’ll be right back,” he said, slowly walking over to Danny.

 

“‘Kay,” Sam breathed, walking over to the passenger side of the car. He watched Dylan for a moment before opening his door, following Dean in the car.

 

Dylan held his hands behind his back, looking down at Todd’s gravestone, stopping by the dirt. 

 

“Hi,” Danny said quietly, not looking up. 

 

“Hi,” Dylan echoed, letting his hands drop to his sides. He sniffled quietly and nodded, unsure of what to say.

 

“I was happy to see you here,” Danny said, finally looking up at Dylan. “I don’t know if I could speak in front of all those people if you weren’t.”

 

It was hard for Dylan not to smile, but he knew that it was definitely not the right time. “I wasn’t-- we weren’t sure if you would want us here,” he admitted, rolling his lips into his mouth. 

 

Danny shrugged. “I…wouldn’t’ve…my dad would’ve wanted you here,” he explained.

 

“Oh,” Dylan said flatly, heart dropping. “Right.”

 

Danny looked up again. “I…I didn’t mean it that way. I mean, of course Dad would’ve wanted you here, but I did too. I wasn’t sure if you were going to come. And I-- I needed you to come. I needed you here.”

 

“I’m glad that I was then,” Dylan replied. 

 

Danny sniffled and glanced over Dylan, seeing Dean and Sam waiting the car. “Tell your parents that I’m glad that they came too.”

 

Dylan nodded, glancing back also. “Yeah, of course. They loved him. Your dad, I mean.” He shifted uncomfortably, letting out a deep breath when he looked down at the mound of dirt. “I thought that what you said was really beautiful,” he whispered, meeting Danny’s eyes. He sniffled and shook his head. “I think that I have to go,” he said quickly, “my parents are waiting. But Danny, if you need anything…I’m always here for you.”

 

“Yeah,” Danny nodded, digging his toe into the dirt. “I’ll talk to you later.”

 

Dylan nodded and turned around, slowly making his way back to the car. 

 

Danny kept digging his toe into the dirt, and only looked up when the engine turned on and the car slowly began pulling away.

 

* * * *

 

Dylan sat at the dining table, one hand up by his mouth as he slowly turned the page of paper, quickly scanning the words for a suspicious headline. He sighed softly and shook his head, flipping the page again. 

 

“What’re you looking for, kiddo?” Dean asked, sitting down across from Dylan. “Anything in particular?”

 

Dylan shook his head again, dropping his hand down onto the table. “No,” he lied, reading down the next page. 

 

“Then how come you looked so disappointed when you flipped the page?” Dean asked, leaning back in his seat. 

 

“I’m just tired,” Dylan replied, closing the newspaper. “I always look disappointed. And bitter.”

 

“Too young to be jaded, babe,” Dean said, reaching out, grabbing onto the newspaper. “So what’s going on? Todd’s obituary was in here the other day.”

 

“I know,” Dylan replied, “I think Mom has it.” He sighed, his hands dropping down onto his lap. “I don’t know what I was looking for.” He scratched at his neck, looking around the kitchen. “Just trying to kill time.”

 

“Danny’s going to call,” Dean assured him, reaching out again, this time to grasp onto Dylan’s hand. “You just need to give him time.”

 

Dylan shook his head. “I don’t want to. I mean, no, that’s not what I meant. I want him to have time, but I don’t think that he needs it. He just doesn’t wanna be around me.” He shrugged. “Can’t blame him. He probably doesn’t want to die.”

 

“Dylan,” Dean said gently. “Don’t ever say that. Okay? It’s not true.” He sighed and pushed his chair back, standing up. “And if you’re bad luck, well, we all are.” He picked up the newspaper, walking over to the recycling bag, shoving the newspaper in.

 

“Dad!” Dylan exclaimed. “What’re you doing?”

 

“What’re you looking for?” Dean asked pointedly, turning back around.

 

Dylan sighed and shook his head. “Nothing. I wasn’t looking for anything.” He stood up, moving towards his bedroom but Dean’s hand on his chest stopped him. He huffed and looked down at the hand before looking up at Dean. “This isn’t funny. I wasn’t looking for anything.”

 

“You don’t read the paper, Dylan,” Dean pointed out. “Now, I’m not saying that that’s a bad thing, but ever since Todd’s funeral, you read the paper everyday. And everyday that you do, you get a little more disappointed. What are you looking for? Some message from Danny?”

 

“I’m looking for an excuse to leave,” Dylan snapped, pushing away from Dean.

 

Dean stood stunned for a moment before following after Dylan. “What?” he snapped. “What the hell are you talking about?”

 

“Mom said that you guys used to look in the papers,” Dylan began, “for stories. For something off, something wrong.”

 

Dean’s mouth hung open and he stared at Dylan in disbelief. “What?” he asked, quieter this time. “What’re you…Dylan, you can’t be serious.”

 

“Why not?” Dylan asked. “We hunt, Dad, it’s what we do. Have you met my daughter, Hunter? You agreed it was the perfect name for a Winchester.”

 

“Dylan, it’s a name,” Dean pointed out, “it’s not supposed to be your life. If Sam and I wanted it for you, we would’ve raised you that way. We didn’t raise you that for a reason. We don’t want you to die.”

 

“You guys survived,” Dylan said. “For years, you survived. You guys have said it before, you’ve been in danger more times being ‘normal’ than being hunters. And I’m an adult; I get to do what I want.”

 

“You’re a parent first,” Dean said. “That means you do what’s best for your baby, not for you. Hunting to take out some anger isn’t what’s best. For anybody. Why would you do this?”

 

“Because somebody has to,” Dylan replied. “Because I can’t just sit and wait by while people die around me. Todd was the first, but who else? If Danny comes back to me, he will die. Unless I do something to stop it.” He shook his head. “And you guys won’t do something.”

 

“What do you want us to do, Dylan?” Dean demanded. “Tell me! Tell me what you want and I’ll do it.”

 

“I can’t ask of you what I want,” Dylan said quietly, shaking his head.

 

“Why not?” Dean asked. “You want us to do something! Tell me what you want.”

 

“I want you to come with me,” Dylan replied quietly. 

 

Dean looked at Dylan, frowning, shaking his head. “No. No.”

 

“Why not?” Dylan asked. “This is something you can do. I can help you hunt. We can hunt the demon down and end this for good.”

 

Dean swallowed, rubbing his arms. “I swear Dylan, as much as I love you…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “Everything was perfect,” he said quietly, dropping down onto the couch. “You were happy with Danny and Hunter was just…the light of everybody’s day and I proposed and--”

 

“You proposed?” Dylan asked, sitting down beside Dean. “What? When?”

 

Dean looked at Dylan in confusion, waving his hand. “The day…Todd died,” he replied quietly. “He didn’t say anything?”

 

Dylan swallowed and shook his head. “No. I saw his ring but he-- he didn’t say anything. I’m sure he just--”

 

Dean snorted and shook his head. “Yeah, I’m sure he did. Dylan, you can’t hunt.”

 

“I can if I want to,” Dylan said defiantly.

 

Dean smiled weakly and reached up, cupping Dylan’s cheek. “No, you can’t. You tried, because you thought you should. You had nightmares.”

 

Dylan swallowed hard jerked his head away from Dean’s hand. “That was different. I wasn’t ready. And they were animals.”

 

“And demons are in people,” Dean pointed out. “People die when you exorcise them. The shit their body’s go through from demons, a lot of them don’t survive. Or we’re the ones who kill them because there’s no other option.”

 

“Fine,” Dylan said, “then you can do that. I’ll do the research and use my mind. You can kill. You’re used to it.”

 

“I was,” Dean agreed, nodding. “But I don’t wanna be used to it again. I’m happy. I have a granddaughter who needs me, and apparently a son who still does too.”

 

“Fine,” Dylan said again, “then don’t come. You can stay here and help Mom take care of Hunter.”

 

Dean quickly straightened up, reaching out for Dylan. “Uh, what? You’re leaving her?”

 

“I can’t take a baby hunting,” Dylan said. “What the hell kind of father do you think I am?”

 

“Hey!” Dean snapped. “Don’t even--”

 

“I just know that she’d be better off here,” Dylan explained. “I won’t be able to watch her and hunt at the same time. You can take care of her.”

 

“For how long?” Dean asked.

 

“I don’t know!” Dylan exclaimed, pushing himself up off the couch. “I don’t know. For as long as it takes. Until that bastard is dead and he can’t hurt anybody else that I love. Until I know that my family is safe. That’s how long.”

 

Dean shook his head. “My father hunted for more than thirty years, Dylan. Thirty years. You’re willing to miss out on the first thirty years of your daughter’s life? After that, she’s not your daughter, Dylan. ‘Cause you sure as hell wouldn’t be her dad.”

 

Dylan swallowed hard, taking a deep breath. “I know what I need to do, Dad. I know what I’m going to do. You can do whatever you want. And I’m going either way, but if you would come with me…” he shook his head, “well, I’m sure you can figure it out.” He cleared his throat and turned around, going down to his bedroom.

 

Dean pursed his lips, thinking, crossing his arms across his chest. He sighed and shook his head.

 

* * * *

 

Sam stared at Dean in disbelief, mouth trembling, trying to burst out at him. “What?” he asked, keeping his voice as quiet as possibly, that one word shaky.

 

Dean dropped his eyes and took a deep breath, nodding to himself. “I think that you heard me. Please don’t make me say it again.” He lifted his hand and reached out, eyes full of sadness when Sam jerked away from him.

 

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Sam snapped, stepping back from Dean. “Don’t you even--”

 

“Sam, it’s not that big of a deal,” Dean said, regretting the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. 

 

Sam laughed miserably, shaking his head. “No, no, of course not. The man I’ve been with for the past twenty-three years, my brother, is going to leave me.”

 

“I don’t think that you should think of it like that,” Dean suggested, trying to keep it light. “I’m not leaving you. I’m going with Dylan.”

 

“What the hell is the difference?” Sam yelled. “Dean, you’re a-- god, I can’t even believe you right now. God, I just…you motherfucker. You bastard. You can’t do this to me.”

 

Dean cringed at Sam’s words, nodding understandingly. “Yeah, I know. I know that it’s awful and I know that it’s not what you want to hear but you didn’t hear him talking to me! He’s going to leave. He is going to leave Hunter here and go hunting. At least if one of us goes with him he has a chance of surviving through the first month.”

 

Sam shook his head in disbelief. “You’re supposed to tell him no. When he comes to you and says shit like that, you’re supposed to tell him that we won’t take care of his granddaughter and you won’t go with him.”

 

“I tried,” Dean said, “I did. But he wants this. He blames himself for Todd’s death. He’s Dad all over again. Fuck, he got the Winchester genes.”

 

“So did you,” Sam muttered. “If you’re going to leave, leave. But I don’t ever wanna see you back here.”

 

“You don’t mean that,” Dean said quietly.

 

“Really?” Sam snapped. “Really? Fuck Dean, just tell me what I mean. Tell me what I want to say. Tell me what I’m thinking.”

 

“I think that you’re mad,” Dean began gently, “I think that you want to hit me. I think that you want to hate me. And I’m sorry. But if I go with him, I can protect him. I can convince him to come home. It’ll take a little while though, but he’ll get frustrated and he’ll miss home and he’ll hate it. And then I’ll be there to bring him home and we can be perfect again.”

 

“We were never perfect, Dean,” Sam said, pushing his hair off his forehead. “I…you wanted to marry me.”

 

“Sam, we can’t get married,” Dean pointed out, earning a glare from Sam.

 

“But you wanted to,” Sam reminded him. “And I said yes. And this ring meant that we were supposed to be together forever, screw death do us part.” He shook his head angrily, tears filling his eyes as he began wiggling the ring off of his finger.

 

“What are you doing, Sammy?” Dean asked, watching Sam pull his ring off. “Ow!” he cried when the ring hit him in his arm, and his other hand flew up, rubbing the skin.

 

“If you want to leave, then leave,” Sam said, dropping down onto his bed. “Whatever, I don’t care. Take your ring and leave.”

 

“Are you kicking me out?” Dean asked, leaning down to pick up the ring.

 

“I don’t have to,” Sam answered, “you’re leaving on your own, aren’t you?”

 

“Sammy, I’m not leaving you,” Dean said, crouching down in front of Sam, looking up at him, ring his hand. “I’m taking care of our son. What? Do you want him out there, all alone?”

 

Sam shook his head after a moment, shoulders shaking too. “No,” he admitted, reaching down to take his ring back from Dean, not slipping it back on yet.

 

“Do you want me to protect him?” Dean continued on.

 

Sam nodded quickly. “Yeah,” he breathed, sniffling.

 

“Then I have to go,” Dean replied, pushing himself up to give Sam a kiss, cupping Sam’s cheeks in his hands. “You know it.”

 

Sam swallowed and sighed, wrapping his arms around Dean, pulling him in. “Why does he have to go at all?” he asked helplessly, looking up when Dean straightened up.

 

“To prove something to himself,” Dean replied, sitting on the bed beside him. “To prove that he can. To tell himself that he tried. So he can tell Danny and Hunter and Todd that he tried.” He bit his lip and let out a deep, shaky breath, head dropping forward.

 

* * * *

 

“I’m coming,” Danny said quietly, hurrying to his door. He undid the chain and turned the lock before turning the knob, opening the door a crack. “Hi,” he said in surprise.

 

Sam swallowed and shifted in the hallway, hands in his pockets. “Hi, Dan,” he said, meeting his eyes. “Can I come in?”

 

Danny nodded slowly, before jerking back to attention and stepping back out of the way, letting Sam into his apartment. “What’s going on?” he asked, locking the door behind him.

 

“Not much,” Sam replied, looking around Danny’s apartment. “How are you?” he asked, turning back to him.

 

Danny swallowed and leaned against the door, shrugging. “I don’t know,” he replied. “O-- o-- okay, I guess,” he said. “It’s hard.”

 

Sam nodded understandingly. “I know,” he said. “It is.”

 

Danny wet his lips before rolling them into his mouth, watching Sam carefully. “So, what can I do for you?” he asked finally. “Is everything okay?”

 

“Do you still love Dylan?” Sam asked quickly.

 

“I don’t know what that has to do with anything,” Danny replied, only because he was unsure of how to answer the actual question.

 

“It has to do with the fact that my son is going to leave in a couple of days,” Sam replied, voice shaking.

 

“For where?” Danny asked. “Columbia?”

 

Sam snorted and laughed, shaking his head. “Fuck no. God, I wish. He’s hunting. He’s going to be a hunter.”

 

“What for?” Danny asked, pushing himself off the door. “H-- hunt? He doesn’t hunt. He doesn’t want to.”

 

“He wants to now,” Sam replied. “He feels guilty. No, not only guilty. He thinks that your father died because of him. He’s going to hunt for vengeance.”

 

“I never asked him to do that,” Danny assured Sam quickly. “And he shouldn’t feel guilty. I blame myself. For it all.” His eyes filled with tears and he looked away, wiping at them quickly.

 

“Danny,” Sam said softly, reaching out for him, “don’t. This isn’t your fault. And it’s not Dylan’s.”

 

Danny nodded quickly, sniffling. “I just…it was my idea for my dad to take care of Hunter. And I couldn’t save him. I got there and he was already on the ceiling. I picked Hunter instead of him.” He began to cry, even though it was the last thing that he wanted to do in front of Sam.

 

“It’s okay,” Sam whispered, pulling Danny in. “It’s not your fault. And you made a judgment call. And I thank you for it. And Dean does, and Dylan does. You chose the person you could save over the person you wanted to.”

 

Danny swallowed and pulled back. “It’s not that I didn’t want to save her,” he said, shaking his head. “If it wasn’t for her, I would’ve stayed in that fire. But I couldn’t do that to you.” He wiped at his eyes and took a deep breath, settling back against Sam. “All those people hugged me at the funeral,” he said quietly. “This is the first time it felt like somebody actually meant it.”

 

Sam smiled and tightened his arms around Danny, kissing his temple. “I’m always here for you, Danny,” he assured him. “And soon it’s just going to be us.”

 

Danny frowned and lifted his head. “What?” he asked. “Why?”

 

“Because Dean’s going with him,” Sam replied. “So I um, I actually came over here to ask you something sort of stupid and probably inappropriate.”

 

“What is it?” Danny asked, stepping back from Sam.

 

Sam smiled weakly and dropped his eyes, sniffling. “Since Dylan’s going to leave, and Dean’s going to leave, and you’re all alone…I was wondering if maybe you could just stay with me for awhile. Help take care of Hunter and-- and just make sure I’m not alone. I’m not used to being alone.”

 

“He’s not taking Hunter?” Danny asked in disbelief. “Dylan is leaving Hunter?”

 

Sam nodded. “I know,” he breathed. “He hates Victoria for leaving her and he’s going to do the same thing. I think he thinks it’s different, so it’s okay. It’s better.”

 

Danny swallowed hard, looking around. “Do you want something to drink?” he offered. “I have a lot. Whatever you want, probably.”

 

“Thanks,” Sam said quietly. “I’ll have whatever. Something cold.”

 

“Kay,” Danny nodded, walking into his kitchen.

 

Sam looked around Danny’s apartment, sitting down on his couch. “This is a nice place,” he said, shrugging off his jacket.

 

Danny walked out with Sam’s glass of beer and handed it over to him, sitting down beside Sam. “Thank you,” he said, swallowing. “And-- and yeah. If they go. I’ll come and stay with you. I like Hunter, and I like you.”

 

Sam smiled, taking a drink. “I think Hunter would like it.”

 

“You never judged me,” Danny continued, ignoring Sam’s comment, “ever. Not even when I broke up with him. You were probably mad, but Dylan told me about the things you and Dean said, and you seemed nice.”

 

“I knew that you loved him,” Sam explained, “and I knew that he loved you. And I could hope that everything would work out in the end. It kind of did.”

 

Danny nodded. “I was scared to move back here. I was going to stay in Washington. Dad convinced me to come back; told me it wouldn’t be as bad as I thought. Everything was always his idea.”

 

“I thought that your eulogy for him was really great,” Sam said, taking another drink. “I think it’s exactly the way I think he’d want to be remembered.”

 

“I think he wanted fireworks,” Danny said, looking up at Sam, finally smiling.

 

Sam smiled, and that smiled turned into a grin, and finally, he started to laugh. He shook his head, eyes filling with tears as he laughed, almost one hundred percent sure that Danny wasn’t joking.

 

* * * *

 

Sam bounced Hunter up in his arms, swaying back and forth, watching Dylan pack his bags. “So are you taking everything?” he asked, kissing Hunter’s cheek.

 

“I don’t know,” Dylan replied. “Should I? Or maybe I should leave some here so I can come back and get it later.”

 

Sam swallowed and shrugged. “I don’t know. Whatever you want. If you think you’re going to be gone that long.”

 

Dylan sighed and straightened up, thinking. “I don’t know. I’ll leave some stuff here.” He began folding shirts again, shoving them in his bag.

 

“Okay,” Sam said, voice tiny, blinking furiously. “Well, okay. Um, yeah, just leave it here. I won’t throw it out on you.”

 

Dylan smiled, sticking his tongue out at Hunter. “Okie dokie. Thanks.”

 

“I think that I am gonna go check on your father,” Sam said, slowly stepping back. “You okay down here?”

 

“Yep,” Dylan nodded. “You can check over my bags before we leave in the morning anyway.”

 

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, walking out of Dylan’s bedroom. He went down the hallway, through the living room and into the master bedroom, mouth opening. “Jesus Dean, could you make more of a mess?” he asked, walking through the clothes on the floor.

 

Dean shrugged, shoving clothes into his bag. “I don’t know. Probably.” He laughed, haphazardly shoving more clothes in. “I might’ve snuck a couple of your shirts in here,” he whispered, giving Sam a wink.

 

“Why?” Sam asked, walking over to the bed, shifting Hunter.

 

“‘Cause I like the way you smell,” Dean explained. “And I like your too-big hoodies.”

 

Sam sighed, reaching down to pick up an old pair of Dean’s boxers. “He’s still packing,” he said, looking at Dean. “You’re leaving in the morning.”

 

“I know,” Dean nodded. “Keep waiting for him to say that he’s changed his mind. I don’t think he’s going to.”

 

“Maybe once you’re off our street,” Sam suggested. “Once it sets in that he’s actually leaving his daughter. And his…me. And Danny.”

 

“It’s not worth it, is it?” Dean asked, zipping up his first bag. “Whatever it’s going to take to get him out of this, it’s not going to be worth it.” He pulled his second bag open, grabbing a few pairs of jeans. They both looked up when the doorbell rang and Sam opened his mouth, looking down at Hunter.

 

“Who’s that?” Sam asked, walking out of the bedroom. “Who’s at the door?” He stuck his tongue out at her, making his face. “Well, I think that we have to see.” He pulled open the door, smiling at Danny. “Look, Hunter. Say hi.”

 

“Hi,” Danny smiled, waving at Hunter. “How are you?” he asked, walking into the house when Sam stepped out of his way. 

 

“Okay,” Sam replied. “Dyl’s in his room packing,” he said, nodding in the direction of Dylan’s room.

 

“Kay, thanks,” Danny said, waving at Dean as he walked by, giving him a quick smile.

 

“What’s he doing here?” Dean asked, walking out of the bedroom, going over to Sam. “I didn’t know that they were talking again.”

 

Sam shrugged. “I don’t know,” he lied. “Maybe Dylan called, told him that you’re leaving.”

 

Dean raised an eyebrow, looking up at Sam. “Or you did.”

 

Sam thought for a moment, before shaking his head. “No, no,” he said, “not me.” He smiled and walked by Dean, going back into the master bedroom.

 

Danny knocked lightly on the door and walked in, giving Dylan a wave. “Hi,” he said quietly, closing the door behind him.

 

“Danny!” Dylan exclaimed in surprise. “Oh my-- oh my god, what are you doing here?” He hurried over to him, pulling him into a hug. “God, I didn’t think you’d ever…that we’d ever…” He pulled back, smiling apologetically. “That you’d come,” he said finally.

 

“Well, I was always going to,” Danny assured him, “but then I heard through the grapevine that you were leaving. And it didn’t seem like you were going to come to me, so I came to you.” He smiled and tilted his head, leaning in to give Dylan a kiss.

 

“Who told you?” Dylan asked, pulling back. “My mom?”

 

Danny nodded. “Yeah,” he replied. “He asked me if when you leave I could stay here for awhile, to keep him company. Help take care of Hunter.”

 

Dylan swallowed hard. “Oh. Then…then you know.”

 

“Yeah, I know,” Danny said quietly. “That you’re abandoning your daughter.”

 

“I’m not,” Dylan insisted, “I’m not. I’m leaving for a little while. To kill the demon that killed your dad. I thought that you’d be happy.”

 

“Happy about what?” Danny asked. “The fact that you’re leaving? Her, me, your mom? Everybody? This isn’t you. I don’t want you to be the guy who’s blinded by hate, and revenge.”

 

“I’m not blinded by anything,” Dylan muttered, walking back over to his bag. “Love, maybe. I’m doing this for you.”

 

“I didn’t ask you to,” Danny pointed out.

 

“I’m doing what you can’t,” Dylan said. “What my parents wouldn’t. I’m doing what has to be done.”

 

“Fine,” Danny said, “let me go with you.”

 

“What?” Dylan asked, lifting his head. “For what?”

 

“To do what I can’t,” Danny replied. “Give me a chance. I’ll do it. He was my father.”

 

“You don’t have the training,” Dylan replied, going back to his bag. “You wouldn’t know what to do. I know that I need my father to do this, but you need so much more. Have you ever even shot a gun?”

 

“I’d learn,” Danny said. “That’s what people do. Nobody’s born knowing how to use a gun. I could learn.”

 

“You could die,” Dylan said quietly. He cleared his throat, shaking his head. “And I lost you for five years. I’m not losing you for the rest of my life. I love you too much for that.”

 

“And what?” Danny asked. “I don't feel the same way? Dylan, that’s not fair. I know that you lost me for five years, it was my fault. And I lived with that mistake everyday of those five years. I lost you too and now I’ve lost my dad, I can’t lose you again.” He shook his head. “Not when it would be forever.”

 

Sam sighed, leaning down to kiss Hunter a kiss, grinning at her. “Hi,” he said, folding the clothes, “hi.”

 

“I’ve got that,” Dean said, grabbing a couple of pictures of his dresser. “I can pack.”

 

“It’s okay,” Sam assured him, placing the clothes in the bag.

 

“Uh, Sam?” Dean asked. “Those aren’t my clothes.”

 

“Nope,” Sam agreed, looking up at him. “Not really your bag either.”

 

Dean sighed and sat down on the bed. “So what are you doing?” he asked, scratching at his head.

 

Sam reached out for more clothes, showing Dean that he was wearing his ring again. “I was angry at you for leaving,” he said, folding his clothes. “It never even crossed my mind to go with you.”

 

“You’re coming with me?” Dean asked. “Uh, I mean, us? Sam, no. No, this life, this is yours. This was all for you. This was your dream.”

 

“My dream was to be with the man I love,” Sam said, smiling at Dean, “and to be happy. Luckily they go hand in hand.” He reached over, grasping onto Dean’s hand. “If you’re going, if my son is going, then I’m going. And that’s just the way it’s going to be.”

 

Dean swallowed, squeezing his fingers around Sam’s. “And what about Hunter?” he asked.

 

“Who said we all had to leave the motel room?” Sam pointed out. “I can stay and watch her, or Dylan can. Or you can. But we keep the evil out of her life. And if Dylan’s not done his crusade by-- by the time that she realizes we don’t have normal lives, I’m going to back to that life. To this life. You can do whatever you want.” He sighed, going back to packing his bag.

 

“If you’re dead-set on leaving,” Danny began, pressing Dylan up against the wall, lips moving over Dylan’s jaw and neck, “then you’re taking me with you.”

 

“Danny,” Dylan protested, trying to push him away, “I can’t let you fight.”

 

“I won’t fight,” Danny assured him. “I’ll stay in the motel room and-- and clean your guns. I can do that much, can’t I?”

 

Dylan swallowed hard. “I don’t want you to regret being with me.”

 

Danny smiled and leaned in, giving Dylan another real kiss. “I’ve never regretted being with you a day in my life,” he whispered. “And if it sucks that bad, then I’ll leave and come back here. But I hope that when I do come back here, you come with me. And we can be a family.”

 

“A family?” Dylan repeated. “Really?”

 

Danny nodded. “Family was the most important thing in the world to my dad, and to me. And I want to be with you forever. And Hunter. And maybe…maybe someday, with a surrogate or something, I can have-- well, we can have another baby.”

 

Dylan smiled and his eyes filled tears, head thumping back against the wall. “You couldn’t’ve said all this five years ago?” he asked.

 

Danny’s smile disappeared and he shook his head slowly. “I wasn’t ready. And neither were you. But now I am and now you are.” He kissed Dylan again. “Your mom might be a little lonely now though, staying here alone with Hunter.”

 

Dylan shook his head and gently pushed Danny off of him, grasping onto his hand. “We should probably go to tell them,” he pointed out, leading Danny down the hall.

 

“What are we going to tell Dylan?” Dean asked, letting Sam lead him out of the bedroom.

 

“The truth,” Sam replied. “Of course.” He looked up when Dylan and Danny came down the hallway and he smiled over at them.

 

“How do we tell them?” Danny whispered, glancing at Dylan.

 

“Easy,” Dylan answered, leading Danny over to his parents.

 

* * * *

 

“Okay, so my bag's with you,” Danny said quietly, before yawning, stretching his arms up above his head.

 

“You’re so tired,” Dylan muttered, throwing Danny’s bags in his trunk alongside his, closing the trunk, leaning against it. “You can sleep for the first little while.”

 

“So where are we going first?” Danny asked. “What’d your parents find?”

 

“Cattle deaths in Arizona,” Sam replied. “It should be easy and it’s close to home,” he explained. 

 

“So what is it?” Danny asked.

 

“Vampires,” Dean replied, closing his own trunk. “Most likely, anyway. Could be demons, but…probably vampires.”

 

“I thought that vampires eat people,” Danny said. “They…eat cow?”

 

Sam smiled. “Only if there’s not enough people around,” he said, pulling his jacket closer around him. “You guys got Hunter’s bag, right?”

 

“Yep,” Dylan nodded, “it’s in the back with her. Her bag, my bags, Danny’s bags…what about you guys?”

 

“Got our bags,” Dean replied, patting the trunk. “Locked the doors. House is ours, so uh…well, we just gotta let people think we’re still in there for awhile.” He looked over at Danny. “What’d you tell your grandparents?”

 

“That I needed time off,” Danny replied. “That I…wasn’t sure of what to do with life now that Dad’s gone. That I loved them and that I’d be safe.” He smiled weakly. “It’s kind of true, I guess.”

 

“So I think that we should drive until lunch,” Sam suggested. “But we can stop before then, if Hunter needs a change or something. You’ve got some toys for her, right? Books?”

 

Dylan nodded. “Mom, you helped me pack her things. You know what I’ve got.”

 

“Okay,” Sam said, shaking his head. He sighed and looked around, the sun just starting to come up. “We should probably get a move on then. Almost day.”

 

“I’m ready if you all are,” Dean nodded, opening the car door. “We’ve got everything?”

 

“Everything,” Dylan assured him. “I swear.”

 

“Okay then,” Dean said, climbing into the car. He sighed and bit his lip, reaching out, flexing his fingers around the steering wheel.

 

“Something you need, just call us,” Sam said, patting his pocket, going around to his side of the car. 

 

“Same here,” Dylan smiled, walking over to Dean’s side, where the car window was down. “You look ready, Dad.”

 

“Hell yeah,” Dean nodded, even though on the inside, he was more nervous than ever. “I love Arizona. There’s this one little diner and--”

 

“Are we all ready?” Sam asked again, looking out Dean’s window at Dylan, then out his own up at Danny.

 

Dean wet his lips and looked around the neighborhood. He sighed, settling back into his seat. _Dean flicked on a small lamp in the nursery, smiling at Dylan. “Good thing you’re all ready for bed, Dylan,” Dean said softly. He walked over to the crib, laying Dylan down in it carefully. He stood up and spun the mobile, sending it around in circles. “Look Dylan, this is a mobile. Look at it. Pretty, huh?”_

 

Dylan leaned against the car, drumming his fingers on the roof. _Dylan pushed himself up a little and slipped his tongue into Danny’s mouth, mouth working against Danny’s. He smiled as he pulled back, swallowing hard. “I gotta go,” he said breathlessly, stepping back. “Goodnight.”_

 

Danny smiled over at Dylan as he turned and looked across the street at his old house, blinking a couple of times. _Danny swallowed hard and pulled off his t-shirt, dropping it down to the floor before pushing down his shorts, moving over to the bed. “Are you sure?” he asked again softly, moving over Dylan, leaning down to kiss him. He moved his mouth down, placing wet kisses over Dylan’s jaw and neck, one hand curled into his bed sheets, the other trailing down Dylan’s chest. “We don’t have to.”_

 

Sam could feel a lump growing in his throat and he tried not to cry, taking a deep breath. _Sam grinned and his eyes began to fill with tears, swallowing hard. “Yeah, Dylan, Mama’s here.”_

 

“I think so,” Dean nodded, glancing over at Sam.

 

Dylan nodded. “Just let us get in the car, and we can pull out.” He tapped the roof a couple of times, walking down the driveway.

 

Danny sighed and nodded, stepping back to look into Sam’s window. “I think this neighborhood will miss you,” he smiled, following Dylan down to his car.

 

Dean smiled and reached over, squeezing Sam’s leg comfortingly. “Hey babe, it’ll be okay. We’re all together. We’re a family.” He leaned over in his seat, giving Sam a kiss. “I love you,” he breathed, meeting Sam’s eyes before kissing him again.

 

Sam nodded eagerly and smiled at Dean. “I love you too,” he replied, reaching up to pull on his seatbelt.

 

“Okay then,” Dean said, letting out a deep breath, doing his own seatbelt. He glanced in the rear view mirror and saw Dylan pull out of the driveway. He smiled at the house and reached down, turning on the radio. He went through the songs and grinned, nodding to himself as Highway to Hell filled the car. “Well?” he asked, glancing over at Sam, squeezing his leg again.

 

Sam took a deep breath and nodded, reaching down to place his hand on Dean’s, keeping it close. “Yeah,” he breathed, wetting his lips. “We’ve got work to do.”

 

the end.

 

 

Aggressively 

We all defend the role we play

Regrettably 

Time’s come to send you on your way

 

We've seen it all

Bonfires of trust

Flash floods of pain

 

We hope you enjoyed your stay

Outside the sun is shining

It seems like heaven ain't far away

It's good to have you with us 

Even if it's just for the day

 

It's good to have you with us 

Even if it's just for the day

Outside the sun is shining

It seems like Heaven ain't far away


End file.
